<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168</id><updated>2012-01-25T22:21:36.690-08:00</updated><category term='doll'/><title type='text'>A PERSONAL GAZETTE</title><subtitle type='html'>Stories, poems, pictures and illustrations of things from my life. Or other things that interest me. and I am interested in a great many things.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>197</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-2528886695285433746</id><published>2012-01-25T22:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-25T22:18:26.867-08:00</updated><title type='text'>INFINITY</title><content type='html'>you know what's worse than losing someone you love?  It's  to  know when you go to sleep, there is nothing to wake up for.   nothing to look forward to.    time is just periods of light and periods of dark.  all past, no future.    blankness, emptiness.  a void.&lt;br /&gt;I used to be very creative.  now, why bother.&lt;br /&gt;*****************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-2528886695285433746?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/2528886695285433746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=2528886695285433746' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2528886695285433746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2528886695285433746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2012/01/infinity.html' title='INFINITY'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-2293525228118883112</id><published>2012-01-09T17:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-09T18:00:25.006-08:00</updated><title type='text'>TERRIFIED</title><content type='html'>Lonely, lost, empty days. too devastated to take myself away. Like my brother, I never expected to end up alone. and I do mean alone.  no one  for backup.&lt;br /&gt;there are some nice people showing up. offering help or aid. very unexpected. &lt;br /&gt;I'm too old to get a dog, even a used doggy who needs a new owner. I couldn't care for it. and then tey sicken and die,  no, never again. I've had enough death.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-2293525228118883112?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/2293525228118883112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=2293525228118883112' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2293525228118883112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2293525228118883112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2012/01/terrified.html' title='TERRIFIED'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-4636708679543252443</id><published>2011-12-30T02:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-30T02:42:21.627-08:00</updated><title type='text'>EMPTYNESS AND  FOREVER  NOTHING</title><content type='html'>My husband died Tuesday afternoon.  After a two year illness. He had ALS.  Worse than cancer. with cancer, there is a chance. ALS----nothing. You watch them diminish. Fade away, losing everything there were.  Ending up in a bed, incapacitated in every way. I sat by him, seeing his breath become slower and slower, becoming more pale and cold. as the blood  drained into his body.   Lying there, gone from me forever.&lt;br /&gt;It was bad, when I first lost my Mother. Then my Dad.  Really I cried for ten years. I couldn't get past my grief.  After ten years, I managed it. Now, this grief, I will have until I die. No matter how long I live.  I probably only have  5-7 years at best anyway.  And I have no idea how I will manage to survive them.  I not only lost Dale, I literally lost everything.&lt;br /&gt;**************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-4636708679543252443?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/4636708679543252443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=4636708679543252443' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/4636708679543252443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/4636708679543252443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/12/emptyness-and-forever-nothing.html' title='EMPTYNESS AND  FOREVER  NOTHING'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-5503956434160643972</id><published>2011-12-25T22:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-25T22:41:46.763-08:00</updated><title type='text'>UNEXPECTED</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tLL7Ocx_ePs/TvgV-gsys7I/AAAAAAAAAQU/ddFaRjo8us4/s1600/christmas%2Btheme.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 279px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tLL7Ocx_ePs/TvgV-gsys7I/AAAAAAAAAQU/ddFaRjo8us4/s400/christmas%2Btheme.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690322292856501170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;this a page from a 2007 journal. I still had positive thoughts, hopes and small dreams. &lt;br /&gt;those are all gone now. no hopes,. no dreams, no wishes,  fantasy is only a child's game. I developed it late, and had it destroyed early.&lt;br /&gt;life is like that&lt;br /&gt;########################################&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-5503956434160643972?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/5503956434160643972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=5503956434160643972' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/5503956434160643972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/5503956434160643972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/12/unexpected.html' title='UNEXPECTED'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tLL7Ocx_ePs/TvgV-gsys7I/AAAAAAAAAQU/ddFaRjo8us4/s72-c/christmas%2Btheme.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-3141575797700273129</id><published>2011-12-13T22:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-13T22:14:39.046-08:00</updated><title type='text'>IMMATURE---</title><content type='html'>Men, never grow up. they stop at whatever age they have their first  sex experience. then spend the rest of their lives trying to  recreate it. sorry guys.   there is only one first kiss.  a single tingle. the rest are only shadows, pale memories. &lt;br /&gt;you are only chasing  yesterday. but, it is dead and gone.  the memories are ashes.   you only get that sweetness once. &lt;br /&gt;same for women.    there is no prince charming. only a lot of silly boys.&lt;br /&gt;*******************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-3141575797700273129?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/3141575797700273129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=3141575797700273129' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3141575797700273129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3141575797700273129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/12/immature.html' title='IMMATURE---'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-2287582442148756287</id><published>2011-12-05T20:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-05T20:28:01.415-08:00</updated><title type='text'>GOOD GRIEF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>Why do they think more intricate the better? stumps me.  simplicity  is a lost situation.   tech, tech tech. sounds like some kind of clock, marking time.  &lt;br /&gt;r u 2 tec? yes, u r 2 tec. makes you stupid and illiterate.   you will never be able to read any of the deep and beautiful classics.  &lt;br /&gt;My brother has a grand daughter who writes to me in 'text'.  I reply in educated literate English.&lt;br /&gt;maybe we will both learn something. &lt;br /&gt;What is more hilarious, the young people have discovered the convenience of an old typewriter.  HAH!&lt;br /&gt;And, film cameras!!!    a positive hoot.  hoo hah.    maybe the original model T" or A Ford will make a come back. well, it did get good gas mileage.&lt;br /&gt;TOOT-TOOT.&lt;br /&gt;***********************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-2287582442148756287?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/2287582442148756287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=2287582442148756287' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2287582442148756287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2287582442148756287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/12/good-grief.html' title='GOOD GRIEF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-4170605637517473304</id><published>2011-09-11T20:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-11T20:47:18.173-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NAME   TRICK</title><content type='html'>i KNOW, i WAS THROUGH WITH BLOGGING. EVERYBODY THINKS facebook IS THE BIG DEAL NOW.&lt;br /&gt;well,  sink that ship. it's all bogus anyway.  it's an ocean rich for I.D. theft phishers.  people are dumb enough to fall for it. in fact the entire 'net,  is an open season on all of us.&lt;br /&gt;actually, that's not the subject I wanted to  mention.&lt;br /&gt;I've been intriged by the name of an actress(ok;female-actor) on NCIS, Cote  d  Pablo. &lt;br /&gt;I know some Spanish, a bit of French, and a touch of Latin.    Probaly a lot of you, already have worked out the translation. Her name is such a clever play on words.  I quite appreciated her humour.   As you can see, I waited a while to  track it down, because the joke,  was neat.&lt;br /&gt;here's what I came up with, if someone else has a different  idea, maybe I'll find out.&lt;br /&gt;Cote d Pablo='rib' of Pablo, i.e.-child of Family Pablo.   really  subtle. makes me laugh.&lt;br /&gt;*******************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-4170605637517473304?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/4170605637517473304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=4170605637517473304' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/4170605637517473304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/4170605637517473304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/09/name-trick.html' title='NAME   TRICK'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-8504340919684516626</id><published>2011-08-01T00:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-01T00:42:50.640-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE MILL IS ON FIRE</title><content type='html'>And that is as bad as it gets. But, this time there is no rebuilding.   No more time for insurance.  No way  or anymore  left.  It's all spent. It's all gone.  the people have gone other ways, down other paths.  Even the house is empty,  no dog either.   only rooms full of bleak emptiness.   photos are only shadows of memories. &lt;br /&gt;the only companions are tears and sorrows and loneliness.&lt;br /&gt;******************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-8504340919684516626?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/8504340919684516626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=8504340919684516626' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8504340919684516626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8504340919684516626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/08/mill-is-on-fire.html' title='THE MILL IS ON FIRE'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-1001472577776484181</id><published>2011-07-14T01:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-14T01:25:12.499-07:00</updated><title type='text'>LETTER TO A FRIEND</title><content type='html'>Thank you for the letter. Life is just no fun anymore is it.  I had that  ghastly flu/bronchitis thing in December. Know where I caught it. At the  hospital.  I had gone to the clinic. for a thing. Lasted three months.  AND, I have my pneumonia shot.&lt;br /&gt;So I know what you are going through.  My Brother  had it twice during the bad weather. Now he has it  again. caught it from his granddaughter who occasionally stays with  him. I keep begging him to get his Pneumonia shot. &lt;br /&gt;He was able to  get some antibiotics this time, because his girlfriend got him signed up  for  SSI. thank goodness, because he not only really needed medical  aid. But, he now has a small income.   My Hb. is failing daily. he has almost completely lost use of his hands. and can't move his arms. I do a lot more for him.&lt;br /&gt;He  has fallen down twice this month. Gwen  next door helped me get him up. The next time, I tried to do it myself.  We both went down and I hurt my back and hip again. So, I had to call  his Home Care-provider.  We had to wait half and hour because he lives  in that far  away.  I sat with Hb.  and talked to him and put a pillow under  head.  Which was OK.&lt;br /&gt;The helper came right in and with a towel under Hb.'s arms just lifted him  right up.&lt;br /&gt;It's getting scary.  I am trying to prepare myself. but I'm not doing a very good job of it.&lt;br /&gt;************************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-1001472577776484181?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/1001472577776484181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=1001472577776484181' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/1001472577776484181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/1001472577776484181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/07/letter-to-friend.html' title='LETTER TO A FRIEND'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-3857915090159220035</id><published>2011-07-10T11:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-10T11:38:45.368-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TODAY-TOMORROW---------------?</title><content type='html'>I am still here. But not too much to talk about. My husband's ALS, continues apace.  Even the doctors have never seen it advance so quickly. I do my best to care for him. and he does have a Home Care provider. So do I. As I have my own things.  He has fallen serveral times. The last two, I had to call for help. As I unfourtunately realize, I can not do all I would like to.&lt;br /&gt;My hips are bad, and my left hip keeps going out.  &lt;br /&gt;********************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-3857915090159220035?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/3857915090159220035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=3857915090159220035' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3857915090159220035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3857915090159220035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/07/today-tomorrow.html' title='TODAY-TOMORROW---------------?'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-7313597117661107168</id><published>2011-05-15T20:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-15T21:42:15.373-07:00</updated><title type='text'>EXCUSE-ME------------!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU JERK</title><content type='html'>I am  getting really disgusted  and angry, with all those foreign men taking the wrong idea about our  entitled American  women.  we are equal in rights to the male population.  Economically, socially, culturally and  in education.&lt;br /&gt;We are not chattel. We belong to no one, but ourselves.  And Buster--we have the right to say,"NO". You jerks out there. No is a complete sentence. What part of No, do you not understand?&lt;br /&gt;And those overgrown male brats, that find it a major offence that a 'girl' can  have the choice to say no.  A 'girl', telling me no.  Stupid  idiots. What kind of culture are we making here? Anyway?&lt;br /&gt;I'm with Jane Velez-Mitchell about the War Against Women. &lt;br /&gt;To  men, women have always been seen as  'prey'.  Maybe that attitude can only be cured by a lobotomy. &lt;br /&gt;At the same time, girls are taking their civil rights way the wrong way.  Becoming  rough girls.  I'm sorry  babe, wrong tack.   The female gender has always been the civilized  half.  If the females lose or reject that, then society is  on a slippery slope.&lt;br /&gt;Young women don't  become  thugs or gang banger.   Don't fall into concubinage,  and slave to some  violent  state.&lt;br /&gt;The reason I got up on this soapbox, is the story of that French   so-and-so, who raped the chamber maid.  Sorry, you yo-yo. We don't condone that here.  And that young lady  was not included with the room service.    Soooooooooooo, glad you were, nailed before departure. And guy,  In this case, diplomatic, won't apply. HAH!!!. &lt;br /&gt;I hope our  enforcement law system can make it stick.&lt;br /&gt;********************************************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-7313597117661107168?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/7313597117661107168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=7313597117661107168' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/7313597117661107168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/7313597117661107168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/05/excuse-me-you-jerk.html' title='EXCUSE-ME------------!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU JERK'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-8712872802309545399</id><published>2011-05-04T23:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-04T23:39:07.811-07:00</updated><title type='text'>GOTCHA-SUCKER</title><content type='html'>Great Work  Special Teams. You nailed this  target.  Your courage and dedication is greatly appreciated. &lt;br /&gt;You know, it's almost  anti-climatic, to find the action has taken place.&lt;br /&gt;And yet, there are 'flat-earther' types who don't want to believe. Those in charge of our national security, are debating on the pics, because it could cause more problems.  Also, some our dead  have been disrespected, and maybe we want to show that we are not barbarians.&lt;br /&gt;As for me, I'm sick to death of  hearing about 'old Binny'.  now he's  gone. good riddence.   Ok, next target----------&lt;br /&gt;Thank you all in charge of our National Security.  Really great job.&lt;br /&gt;***************************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-8712872802309545399?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/8712872802309545399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=8712872802309545399' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8712872802309545399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8712872802309545399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/05/gotcha-sucker.html' title='GOTCHA-SUCKER'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-7575921538574710972</id><published>2011-04-25T17:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-25T17:24:28.023-07:00</updated><title type='text'>LATE FOR EASTER</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CCDLKtVGyco/TbYP6ajf7GI/AAAAAAAAAQI/3Es1ftRwxWY/s1600/BUNNY%2BIN%2BVIOLET%2BPATCH-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 276px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CCDLKtVGyco/TbYP6ajf7GI/AAAAAAAAAQI/3Es1ftRwxWY/s400/BUNNY%2BIN%2BVIOLET%2BPATCH-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599680682916834402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Hope you had a nice one.  it rained here.&lt;br /&gt;*************************&lt;br /&gt;Orig. Art-by: CGZ&lt;br /&gt;copyright: April-2011&lt;br /&gt;*******************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-7575921538574710972?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/7575921538574710972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=7575921538574710972' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/7575921538574710972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/7575921538574710972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/04/late-for-easter.html' title='LATE FOR EASTER'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CCDLKtVGyco/TbYP6ajf7GI/AAAAAAAAAQI/3Es1ftRwxWY/s72-c/BUNNY%2BIN%2BVIOLET%2BPATCH-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-1504243264172602851</id><published>2011-04-03T20:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-04T20:40:04.103-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A ' HI' -  WAS NICE.</title><content type='html'>People used to read blogs, and say hello. I miss that.   no one does that, or else they all deserted blogs for face book.   I guess they think   they have a larger audience.  Let me tell. a few  friends, are safer than being an exhibitionist for the whole world.  They don't realize there all sorts of  creeps and other dangerous louts  out there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Even though I have tried to protect my blogs.  I have still had a masher or two, try to sweet talk someone they think might be stupid, lonely and  gullible.  I just twisted their nose, and blocked them.  No, I didn't email. I made brief blog. Which I then deleted. &lt;br /&gt;********************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-1504243264172602851?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/1504243264172602851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=1504243264172602851' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/1504243264172602851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/1504243264172602851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/04/hi-was-nice.html' title='A &apos; HI&apos; -  WAS NICE.'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-8093982058625038703</id><published>2011-04-02T00:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-04T21:12:42.918-07:00</updated><title type='text'>MEMORIES   OF A KITTY</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QfDdHjaWCOo/TZeI2yznWAI/AAAAAAAAAQA/gbkTtt7d-BI/s1600/KITTY%2BPUSS-59.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 294px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QfDdHjaWCOo/TZeI2yznWAI/AAAAAAAAAQA/gbkTtt7d-BI/s400/KITTY%2BPUSS-59.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591087937336334338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend of mine emailed me something she found on line. It was about cats.  'The art of Sleeping in a box'.   A couple dozen photos of cats  sleeping in boxes.  Really cute.&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm not a cat person. But some are OK.&lt;br /&gt;Long ago, I think I was still in college, my kid brother brought home a kitten, from one the litters his cousin's cats had.  A female,  short-haired all  coal black,  the only white hair anywhere was a small spot on her chest.   Oh gad.  Female. Kid, why not a male. 'because, I liked this one, and she came to me.&lt;br /&gt;Being late in the year, we asked if ' Kitty' could stay in the house until warmer weather. Dad said, no, animals live outside.&lt;br /&gt;Mom said, she's tiny and short haired. She'll freeze to death.  she hasn't any other cat to cuddle with.&lt;br /&gt;As long as there was warmer  weather, Kitty was outside. But, we let her in at night. she got used to it.&lt;br /&gt;Mom was always chary of animals because she picked up ringworm easily.&lt;br /&gt;Kitty  seemed to understand, just like our mama dog did. Mom liked them, but no petting. Mom would just talk to them, and they would listen  and respect her. Kitty,  when she came in would always go to Mom, sit and make a 'Meow'.   Mom would say hello back.  yes, you are a very pretty cat, but I can't pet you.  sorry. OK?&lt;br /&gt;Kitty would meow back,  sometimes she would stand up and pat Mom's leg.&lt;br /&gt;Then cat would get down and and go eat  or have drink.   When Mom was sitting in the chair by the heater, Kitty Puss  would look up my brother or me to play with.  Brother and I made toys for her to play with.&lt;br /&gt;Kitty left Dad alone, she sensed quite well that daddy disapproved.   However, he was definitely&lt;br /&gt;out voted.   Now, I can't remember if she had her own bed or not. But, I do remember that she would sleep with my brother.  She would also come say hello to me and cuddle.  &lt;br /&gt;If Kitty wanted to go out, she would go to the door, and meow to go out.  When she was through, she would meow to come in.  We didn't train her, she did that by herself.&lt;br /&gt;She slept mostly in mom's chair by the heater. It had plastic &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;upholstery, so mom would wipe it down with some lysol, before sitting in it, next morning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kitty had a sweet gentle nature, very amiable, never got into to   things or  made a mess.  She was very clean.  She was very much a lap cat. Loved to be petted.  she would hop in our lap and begin purring before we began.  Sweet, sweet kitty cat.&lt;br /&gt;Kitty wasn't demanding, if we said no, that was it.&lt;br /&gt;After we lost her. I didn't want  another cat.  But, my brother did bring home another of his cousin's kittens. But cat  stayed outside.   Dad &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; put his foot down this time.   'Cat-Cat', (a tom this time) lived in the mechanic  garage and slept in whatever car my kid brother was building at the time.  Cat liked to pretend he was helping work on the car too.  Cute.&lt;br /&gt;*******************************************&lt;br /&gt;I thought I had a picture of kitty in the turqoiuse chair, but this is Kitty in the grey frieze&lt;br /&gt;chair.  Mom replaced it with the vinyl chair,  since kitty  shared it with her.&lt;br /&gt;************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-8093982058625038703?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/8093982058625038703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=8093982058625038703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8093982058625038703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8093982058625038703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/04/memories-of-kitty.html' title='MEMORIES   OF A KITTY'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QfDdHjaWCOo/TZeI2yznWAI/AAAAAAAAAQA/gbkTtt7d-BI/s72-c/KITTY%2BPUSS-59.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-3466129338251163060</id><published>2011-03-31T22:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-31T23:16:55.940-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ONCE- I HAD A GARDEN---------------</title><content type='html'>I always wanted a garden. I lucked out in marrying a man who also liked gardening.&lt;br /&gt;so, we have always had some sort of  garden , no matter where we lived.   I loved flowers, and he grew lots of them for me.  He wanted to send me roses. But, the florist roses died too soon.  After that, Hb.  started growing roses for me.  So  loving.  so considerate.  Beautiful roses. All colors. I particularly  like broken colors. they are so festive.  To have a bouquet at home, one has to grow&lt;br /&gt;two dozen bushes. &lt;br /&gt;Well, when we moved here, we only had room for about a dozen. We occaisionally cut a rose or two for inside. But, I decided to leave them on the bushes,  so that I could look out and watch  them bloom. &lt;br /&gt;Last year, the garden was really lovely.   Hb.  made everything  so healthy. &lt;br /&gt;But,  sadly this this year. No, roses, scruffy  garden area.  weeds, grass, sorrel, simlax, etc. pine needles three inches thick.   Sigh. &lt;br /&gt;Finally, there was an ad in our village paper.  a gardner looking for supplimentery work.  My dearest Hb.  called, and so the garden was cleaned up, at a price, of course.  It doesn't seem that he know much about cultivating roses.   I just hope the allyssum will come back.&lt;br /&gt;One by one, all the things we liked to do, we have to hire someone to do it for us.  I hate having to be dependant.&lt;br /&gt;***********************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-3466129338251163060?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/3466129338251163060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=3466129338251163060' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3466129338251163060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3466129338251163060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/03/once-i-had-garden.html' title='ONCE- I HAD A GARDEN---------------'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-3098671385196128877</id><published>2011-03-25T18:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-25T22:58:32.251-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SUPER MOON</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Q4BQEydVGMQ/TY2AM1VM2xI/AAAAAAAAAP4/pxtx-ttYSUY/s1600/moon%2Brabbit-color.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 297px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Q4BQEydVGMQ/TY2AM1VM2xI/AAAAAAAAAP4/pxtx-ttYSUY/s400/moon%2Brabbit-color.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588263670599441170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FU6jGO5h1p0/TY0-ObJajYI/AAAAAAAAAPw/hdFnEl_ZS6I/s1600/MOON%2BRABBITA.JPG"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I missed the super moon. It was not just raining, it was STORMING, rain ran in a river  down our high slanted roof.  So I only got to view it online. Noy quite the same.&lt;br /&gt;So, all I can share with you. is  my paon to the year of the  RABBIT. In the orient a rabbit lives on the moon.  It's a positive sign.&lt;br /&gt;******************************&lt;br /&gt;Moon Rabbit-original art:&lt;br /&gt;copyright-CGZ-2211&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-3098671385196128877?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/3098671385196128877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=3098671385196128877' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3098671385196128877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3098671385196128877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/03/super-moon.html' title='SUPER MOON'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Q4BQEydVGMQ/TY2AM1VM2xI/AAAAAAAAAP4/pxtx-ttYSUY/s72-c/moon%2Brabbit-color.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-2392775000306015282</id><published>2011-03-23T16:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-15T20:13:39.873-07:00</updated><title type='text'>GOODNIGHT  DEAR  LADY</title><content type='html'>I am disgusted with myself for not ever being brave enough to write Miss Taylor a fan letter. Letting her know how much  she was admired and appreciated, not only for her incredible beauty. But, for her even greater talent.    And she was granted the title:  Dame  by the Queen of England&lt;br /&gt;************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-2392775000306015282?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/2392775000306015282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=2392775000306015282' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2392775000306015282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2392775000306015282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/03/goodnight-dear-lady.html' title='GOODNIGHT  DEAR  LADY'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-8153406100398265117</id><published>2011-03-21T00:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-21T00:40:47.071-07:00</updated><title type='text'>S-P-R-I-I-N-N-G===SPRONGGGE</title><content type='html'>well, today is the first of spring. the is the time of the vernal.&lt;br /&gt;it was: windy, pouring rain and occasional hail.  and c-o-l-d.  brrrrrr.&lt;br /&gt;and no tulips.   no gerber daisies.  no roses. &lt;br /&gt;Spring is staying in her cave because  Mr. winter is having too much fun. at least he thinks he is.  Besides, he has the sealed entrance of the cave with a huge ball of ice and snow, even summer can't melt.&lt;br /&gt;the ski lodges and  snow people are happy. &lt;br /&gt;*******************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-8153406100398265117?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/8153406100398265117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=8153406100398265117' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8153406100398265117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8153406100398265117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/03/s-p-r-i-i-n-n-gspronggge.html' title='S-P-R-I-I-N-N-G===SPRONGGGE'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-224085612843849306</id><published>2011-03-13T23:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-14T00:16:00.674-07:00</updated><title type='text'>STUPID NUISANCE BIRD!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_UtlSdg1kjM/TX3AoRF7uvI/AAAAAAAAAPo/iOOlHkTnE3I/s1600/spotted_towhee_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 290px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_UtlSdg1kjM/TX3AoRF7uvI/AAAAAAAAAPo/iOOlHkTnE3I/s400/spotted_towhee_1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583830911024872178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past week we have had a real pest. A Tow-hee. Crazy is what it is. Woke use us up three mornings pecking at his reflection in the mirror/sunshade Mylar on the bedroom patio sliding door. Wanted to ring his neck.  First we covered only the lower part. Then he would fly up, flap flap, try to hover, and peck. so, we covered up 3/4 of the door.  He would still fly all the way up, flap flap, and try to peck. then tried to fly into the window. OK, so, we ended up covering the entire door.  He never bothered the other part of the door, as that has the screen over it, so it is a visible barrier.&lt;br /&gt;Now, we always get a Poinsettia for our anniversary. Hb. just set it out. That stupid bird, is trying to drive what it is, away. He goes round and round pecking at the pot. Looking for it's feet.  It also trys the 'domination' move. but bird can't mount flower pot.  He actually spends all day at it. So, Hb. moved it under the Camellia tree. The bird is not afraid of people. guess I will try to change it's mind.&lt;br /&gt;I found this on the web, because I don't have photo of my own.  It's a good pic.  I hope they don't mind. I couldn't find the photographer's name.&lt;br /&gt;*******************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-224085612843849306?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/224085612843849306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=224085612843849306' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/224085612843849306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/224085612843849306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/03/stupid-nuisance-bird.html' title='STUPID NUISANCE BIRD!!'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_UtlSdg1kjM/TX3AoRF7uvI/AAAAAAAAAPo/iOOlHkTnE3I/s72-c/spotted_towhee_1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-8785276510827173557</id><published>2011-03-07T22:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T23:27:18.858-08:00</updated><title type='text'>COCO AND RAIN</title><content type='html'>It was dark, the sun had set.  A cool rain hissed and spit against the windows, as though to  break the glass and bring the cold in. The window was sturdy and stoutly resisted.    Even though the furnace was on, there were yet cold draughts in the corners.  She had built a fire in the fireplace.  Now it was more comfortable.  The rain  decided to come down harder and colder.  A seemingly veritable assault. She got up from the chair and went to the kitchen. I will make me  some hot  Toddy chocolate.  So she did.  steaming hot, creamy, rich and  fragrant.&lt;br /&gt;She picked up the hot mug, with a potholder, to protect her hands and help the drink stay hot longer.&lt;br /&gt;Walked by the sofa to get the lap throw, continued  to the chair by the  vibrant fireplace, quietly burning.    as she settled herself in the  big cozy chair.  a small  parti-colored  poodle, rose from the rug by the fire where she had been drowsing, came over, sat up and pawed the air.  The  bitty companion was asking to come up. She in the chair set the mug down and patted her lap,  Columbine was up almost before the  lady had finished the pat.   Poodle sniffed toward the chocolate.  "no, no", none for you", you will get a treat later.&lt;br /&gt;Columbine, sniffed in disgust.   Turned around three times and settled down in the lap.  fine, a lap is better anyway,  she seemed to say.&lt;br /&gt;So, they cuddled there, all cozy and warm, listening to the rain and drowsing.&lt;br /&gt;***********************************************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-8785276510827173557?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/8785276510827173557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=8785276510827173557' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8785276510827173557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8785276510827173557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/03/coco-and-rain.html' title='COCO AND RAIN'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-6427050063432612478</id><published>2011-03-05T01:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T01:21:02.122-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SNOWFLAKES?   HAH!</title><content type='html'>We did not have snow. there was a light skiff that melted soon. the hills had a bit more.  Even the Summit didn't get what was hoped.  Too much build up, way huge let down.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe next time they will be a little more cautious.&lt;br /&gt;However the city did get some, and a couple of little girls got to make an 18" Snowman.  Hey, there isn't  any height limit for a snowman.&lt;br /&gt;****************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-6427050063432612478?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/6427050063432612478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=6427050063432612478' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/6427050063432612478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/6427050063432612478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/03/snowflakes-hah.html' title='SNOWFLAKES?   HAH!'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-1013498322034868266</id><published>2011-02-21T11:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-21T11:48:28.946-08:00</updated><title type='text'>STOP THIEF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>Microsoft has openly stolen  my identity. My blog identity- silverlight- who does he think he is? Not god. I have been using silverlight since 2006.  How dare someone like him, rip me off. Or anyone else, for that matter. Silverlight is owned by me. always has been.&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Gates, you are a cad and a bounder.    You are so rich,  you could think up your own name. Take my name off those programs now.&lt;br /&gt;come on, be a gentleman.&lt;br /&gt;No wonder hackers are always after you.&lt;br /&gt;************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-1013498322034868266?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/1013498322034868266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=1013498322034868266' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/1013498322034868266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/1013498322034868266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/02/stop-thief.html' title='STOP THIEF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-2214300425512293339</id><published>2011-02-05T23:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-06T00:18:33.168-08:00</updated><title type='text'>NO, NOT MUCH</title><content type='html'>You wonder, yes you may,&lt;br /&gt;why I do not  have a&lt;br /&gt;thing to say&lt;br /&gt; about, any of my days.&lt;br /&gt;Mostly my days, have&lt;br /&gt;nothing to report.&lt;br /&gt;they are not the sort.&lt;br /&gt;Do you really wish&lt;br /&gt;to read my plaints,&lt;br /&gt;If you do, you are a saint.&lt;br /&gt;Really, there is nothing&lt;br /&gt;you've not heard before.&lt;br /&gt;after awhile, such things&lt;br /&gt; can be a bore.&lt;br /&gt;Did I not say that before?&lt;br /&gt;Well, today is much &lt;br /&gt;like yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;Sitting,  watching the&lt;br /&gt;SUN go by on his&lt;br /&gt; his way,&lt;br /&gt;across the sky.&lt;br /&gt;So, we sit in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ennui&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and do in boredom sigh.&lt;br /&gt;remembering all we&lt;br /&gt;used to do.&lt;br /&gt;And who we used to be.&lt;br /&gt;***************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-2214300425512293339?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/2214300425512293339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=2214300425512293339' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2214300425512293339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2214300425512293339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/02/no-not-much.html' title='NO, NOT MUCH'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-1009224527333323328</id><published>2011-02-04T23:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-05T01:10:49.187-08:00</updated><title type='text'>BUTTERCUPS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TU0T4KWgOHI/AAAAAAAAAPY/6VbedOMZ4Xk/s1600/Image008%253DButtercups-color.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TU0T4KWgOHI/AAAAAAAAAPY/6VbedOMZ4Xk/s400/Image008%253DButtercups-color.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570130169699514482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once upon a Buttercup,&lt;br /&gt;a Butterfly flew by&lt;br /&gt;and supped it up.&lt;br /&gt;now wherefore did&lt;br /&gt;that Butterfly have&lt;br /&gt;permission to sup my cup.&lt;br /&gt;surely not from me.&lt;br /&gt;Each morning I looked&lt;br /&gt;forward to sup myself&lt;br /&gt;from my fresh-filled&lt;br /&gt;cup of Butter&lt;br /&gt;From my golden&lt;br /&gt;Buttercup.&lt;br /&gt;No bad mannered&lt;br /&gt;Butterfly has the right&lt;br /&gt;To rob me of my&lt;br /&gt;Luscious gift of  butter&lt;br /&gt;from my personal&lt;br /&gt;golden floral bowl.&lt;br /&gt;Now this plaint of mine&lt;br /&gt;To the top I shall  take.&lt;br /&gt;and valid  plea I shall  make.&lt;br /&gt;Surely Lady Mother will&lt;br /&gt;rule in mine favor&lt;br /&gt;because, she knows&lt;br /&gt;how I do savor,&lt;br /&gt;her daily gift of&lt;br /&gt;butter  for my toast,&lt;br /&gt;And to the her&lt;br /&gt;I give her boast.&lt;br /&gt;And so, naughty Butterfly&lt;br /&gt;Go find your own cup&lt;br /&gt;of sweet butter ,&lt;br /&gt;to sup up.&lt;br /&gt;By mine buttercup&lt;br /&gt;no more flutter.&lt;br /&gt;*****************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-1009224527333323328?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/1009224527333323328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=1009224527333323328' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/1009224527333323328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/1009224527333323328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/02/buttercups.html' title='BUTTERCUPS'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TU0T4KWgOHI/AAAAAAAAAPY/6VbedOMZ4Xk/s72-c/Image008%253DButtercups-color.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-3918894029671591078</id><published>2011-02-01T21:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-01T22:23:24.107-08:00</updated><title type='text'>PLAYTIME</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TUjxu4sKTFI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/nt1kTd1Qgio/s1600/Christmas%253DMother%2B%2526%2BDaughter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 244px; height: 357px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TUjxu4sKTFI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/nt1kTd1Qgio/s400/Christmas%253DMother%2B%2526%2BDaughter.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568966727037504594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I love this picture. very idealistic.  I wish---but, my mother never really played with me.  not really.  she admitted, she was never a doll person.  and she  had  an unsure outlook, to see me love my dolls.   Although, she did teach me how to thread a needle, at which I am very good. and how roll a knot without a tail, at which, I am only 50% successful.&lt;br /&gt;When I was in high school, my dad had a partnership with another guy, to grow  safflower.   So, we occasionally visited the family. They had a sweet and I think, lonely little girl.  Perhaps she was 5. &lt;br /&gt;One time when I was there, I was talking to her and her mother. The elfin asked me to play tea party with her. I was very discomposed. I had no idea what to say, but, I said, " I think I am too big to play  like that". &lt;br /&gt;She said, " my momma plays with me all the time".&lt;br /&gt;Me, "oh". very embarrassed.&lt;br /&gt;"I guess it's because, maybe, my momma never had time to play with me".&lt;br /&gt;As with with most children, that led to a string of unanswerable 'whys'.&lt;br /&gt;Her mother saw we were in a box canyon and distracted Sally, with a promise of a treat later.&lt;br /&gt;My dad was ready to leave, so we left. &lt;br /&gt;But, I've always remembered that.   And wished "I hadn't been so conscious of my teenage-semi-adult state, to think playing 'tea time' with a tot, would in someway, diminish my 'teenage'consequence.&lt;br /&gt;Before I was in my teens, I always played with serveral of my tiny cousins.  Even the little ones of the men who worked for my Dad.&lt;br /&gt;I considered myself to have been very silly.&lt;br /&gt;Next year the family moved away, as the safflower didn't work out.  So I never got a second chance.&lt;br /&gt;***********************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-3918894029671591078?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/3918894029671591078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=3918894029671591078' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3918894029671591078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3918894029671591078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/02/playtime.html' title='PLAYTIME'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TUjxu4sKTFI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/nt1kTd1Qgio/s72-c/Christmas%253DMother%2B%2526%2BDaughter.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-2384322429702847010</id><published>2011-01-29T20:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-30T22:10:13.093-08:00</updated><title type='text'>OOPS</title><content type='html'>drat, missed the wolf moon this year.&lt;br /&gt;oh, well. this is the year of the rabbit. the Chinese say it is a harbinger of lots of 'that' sort of mischief.&lt;br /&gt;ho,ho.&lt;br /&gt;but, at the same, a sign of prosperity.    how about that.&lt;br /&gt;********************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-2384322429702847010?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/2384322429702847010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=2384322429702847010' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2384322429702847010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2384322429702847010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/01/oops.html' title='OOPS'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-3150777926884620915</id><published>2011-01-25T02:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-25T02:16:41.120-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SOMNOLENCE</title><content type='html'>the moon between the trees&lt;br /&gt;ducks under and around&lt;br /&gt;the leaves&lt;br /&gt;on the branches.&lt;br /&gt;playing seek and find&lt;br /&gt;which with the moon&lt;br /&gt;humour's my mind.&lt;br /&gt;finally, in a burst&lt;br /&gt;of brilliance bright,&lt;br /&gt;the moon ,flashes into&lt;br /&gt;view,&lt;br /&gt; in all it's brilliant&lt;br /&gt;opalescent hues.&lt;br /&gt;painting all in silver and white&lt;br /&gt;bringing  the night world&lt;br /&gt;shining light.&lt;br /&gt;******************************&lt;br /&gt;the moon inspires me more often than the sun.&lt;br /&gt;**********************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-3150777926884620915?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/3150777926884620915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=3150777926884620915' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3150777926884620915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3150777926884620915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/01/somnolence.html' title='SOMNOLENCE'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-2594463808777556605</id><published>2011-01-19T23:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-24T01:04:07.216-08:00</updated><title type='text'>HOME-MEMORIES</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TTfqthkES3I/AAAAAAAAAO8/QdYMdJAHpzs/s1600/home%2Bchrustmas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 216px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TTfqthkES3I/AAAAAAAAAO8/QdYMdJAHpzs/s400/home%2Bchrustmas.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564173932464196466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iknow, I have used this image before.  It's where I was born and grew up.  Left it long ago, only returned while my parents yet resided there.   The last time I was there, was 1990. So, devastating. I was quite shaken. Everything in these photos were gone. Only the trees still stood.&lt;br /&gt;So, many ghosts.&lt;br /&gt;I talked to my younger brother, lately. He had gone up to see.  took his 4th grand daughter to show her.   He said, now even the trees were gone. They got sick and died and had to be cut down.&lt;br /&gt;Now that is spooky.  I really do feel, they waited for one of the family with the name to return. No body did.&lt;br /&gt;The land is owned by a direct family member. But, he doesn't have the family name.  The land knows the difference.&lt;br /&gt;It is very melancholy. &lt;br /&gt;**********************************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-2594463808777556605?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/2594463808777556605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=2594463808777556605' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2594463808777556605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2594463808777556605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/01/home-memories.html' title='HOME-MEMORIES'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TTfqthkES3I/AAAAAAAAAO8/QdYMdJAHpzs/s72-c/home%2Bchrustmas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-955918616898075470</id><published>2010-12-31T10:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-31T10:21:23.713-08:00</updated><title type='text'>DECEMBER-31-10</title><content type='html'>hey, wait just a tin pan minuet!  wha' happened, where did it go?  this is new year's eve and I am upset that i was sneaked up on.   i hate new year's, it means nothing to me, except, i'm a year older. although year has been bad, the thing is, the progression of time will only get worse.&lt;br /&gt;so, even though, i can't slow it down, time just does it's own. nothing to celebrate in the least.&lt;br /&gt;so drop the ball, time already has.&lt;br /&gt;***************************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-955918616898075470?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/955918616898075470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=955918616898075470' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/955918616898075470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/955918616898075470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/12/december-31-10.html' title='DECEMBER-31-10'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-4510540626954533891</id><published>2010-12-30T19:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-30T19:25:27.998-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SECOND GIFT.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TR1MNdiRPMI/AAAAAAAAAOs/JPK_ZCKep38/s1600/Shiane%2527s%2Bdrawing-dec-2010.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 296px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TR1MNdiRPMI/AAAAAAAAAOs/JPK_ZCKep38/s400/Shiane%2527s%2Bdrawing-dec-2010.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556681309395434690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Isn't this sweet? this the drawing of santa's house Bright' made for me. Drawing seems to be somthing else we have in common.&lt;br /&gt;The child needs all the love that comes her way.&lt;br /&gt;I have write to her now. she very likely believes I have forgotten her.&lt;br /&gt;**********************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-4510540626954533891?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/4510540626954533891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=4510540626954533891' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/4510540626954533891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/4510540626954533891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/12/second-gift.html' title='SECOND GIFT.'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TR1MNdiRPMI/AAAAAAAAAOs/JPK_ZCKep38/s72-c/Shiane%2527s%2Bdrawing-dec-2010.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-8692564725124439892</id><published>2010-12-30T19:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-30T19:18:35.642-08:00</updated><title type='text'>CHRISTMAS  GIFT</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TR1IJzw4JLI/AAAAAAAAAOc/i-36ZuP1k8k/s1600/shiane%2527s%2Bchristmas%2Bcard.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 289px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TR1IJzw4JLI/AAAAAAAAAOc/i-36ZuP1k8k/s400/shiane%2527s%2Bchristmas%2Bcard.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556676848596296882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I am now a step-great aunt. I have  2 greats of the otherwise. a neice and her brother a nephew.&lt;br /&gt;The child is my younger brother's step-grand daughter. and he's delighted.  He and the girl's grandmother  had to resue  'bright'. the kid's father's female friend. was horribly abusing  her.  They didn't have photos, so the police said there was no evidence.  That town is like that.  If you are a working stiff, or of lower economic status, they don't bother.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I only found out about her this summer past. I am writing to her, to help her self worth and her school work. &lt;br /&gt;I sent her one of my drawings for Halloween.  She reciprocated by sending this card for christmas and one of her drawings.  Really sweet.  she is doing better in school and not acting out too much.  but, poor kid, can't blame her.&lt;br /&gt;I owe her a letter.  But, I did send her a doll for Christmas.   My brother said 'bright' likes dolls too.&lt;br /&gt;********************************************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-8692564725124439892?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/8692564725124439892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=8692564725124439892' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8692564725124439892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8692564725124439892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/12/christmas-gift.html' title='CHRISTMAS  GIFT'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TR1IJzw4JLI/AAAAAAAAAOc/i-36ZuP1k8k/s72-c/shiane%2527s%2Bchristmas%2Bcard.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-7245982113090170311</id><published>2010-12-15T16:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-15T16:41:21.021-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WHEELS OF TIME</title><content type='html'>The wheels of time have spun round 48 for us.  that is how long we have been together. amazing.&lt;br /&gt;my parents only made it to 42.  I have a aunt and a cousin who made it to 50.  I don't , we may make it. but, in our case, who cares?  and nothing really to cele brate about.  If we were both in health, ok. fine, but now?   it doesn't matter.&lt;br /&gt;Now, hb's brother and  sister-in-law, have a good shot at it.  they married two years after we did.my best friend and her husband were married a year or two before  us. that was way before we met.&lt;br /&gt;so, here we are.&lt;br /&gt;**********&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-7245982113090170311?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/7245982113090170311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=7245982113090170311' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/7245982113090170311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/7245982113090170311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/12/wheels-of-time.html' title='WHEELS OF TIME'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-6958814709991755488</id><published>2010-12-01T08:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-22T21:15:51.113-08:00</updated><title type='text'>HAPPY  HOLIDAYS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TRLae5P4aUI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/k6mfzzWpxig/s1600/Merri%2BWinter.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 310px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TRLae5P4aUI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/k6mfzzWpxig/s400/Merri%2BWinter.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553741514799606082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tis is a new picture I made for December. I will replace it with one in color soon.   Her name is; Merri  Winter.  May she bring a very bright and  cheerful Holiday Season.&lt;br /&gt;here she is in color.&lt;br /&gt;MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL.&lt;br /&gt;MAY YOU RECEIVE ONLY THE BRIGHTEST JOY AND HAPPINESS.&lt;br /&gt;***********************************************&lt;br /&gt;*****************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-6958814709991755488?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/6958814709991755488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=6958814709991755488' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/6958814709991755488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/6958814709991755488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/12/happy-holidays.html' title='HAPPY  HOLIDAYS'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TRLae5P4aUI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/k6mfzzWpxig/s72-c/Merri%2BWinter.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-3997676028202594859</id><published>2010-11-30T03:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-21T19:53:32.583-08:00</updated><title type='text'>DREAM DOLLHOUSE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TRAxgukmxfI/AAAAAAAAAOA/sbUYDjmBnKM/s1600/Image126-My%2BTudor%2BDollhouse.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 305px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TRAxgukmxfI/AAAAAAAAAOA/sbUYDjmBnKM/s400/Image126-My%2BTudor%2BDollhouse.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552992778874963442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TPTcDKb_NEI/AAAAAAAAANw/eTtm9wHz7mo/s1600/Image125.jpg"&gt; &lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 291px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TPTcDKb_NEI/AAAAAAAAANw/eTtm9wHz7mo/s400/Image125.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545298988099384386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Long ago.  there used to be seasonal crafts magazine published every year. I used buy a lot of them. Better  Homes and Gardens, was a favorite.&lt;br /&gt;In their December 1963 issue, were the plans and diagrams for a  Tudor style doll house. Now the way it was originally imagined,  there was an open layout.&lt;br /&gt;the rooms were big enough for a child to get right into the house. the scale one twelfth. I looks to be big enough for 6" to 11.5" dolls.&lt;br /&gt;I kept that issue, and dreamed over it, for quite awhile.  Finally Iasked my Hb. if we could try to make one.  He is so creative and artistic.   We sat down, checked the scale and I decided to scale it down. Make it a 1/12th scale. that's 1 inch= 1foot.&lt;br /&gt;Hb. went out, scrounged around in back of a couple of Appliance stores, until he located a large double thickness, re-enforced  T.V.  box. It was fun getting it home  in back of my Buick.&lt;br /&gt;*************************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;--------------------I'm    hacked-------------------------&lt;br /&gt;-----------------one of those uninvited  ads popped up on me.---again.&lt;br /&gt;We were without an Internet connection for awhile, just got it back,  using a different provider.  that was fast.&lt;br /&gt;***************************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;We finally wrestled the box into the car and made it home.  then wrestled the box out of the car and into the house. now, that was a BIG box. we spent several days, maybe few weeks, laying it all out. the cutting and fitting it all together.  It was a lot of work, but, great fun.&lt;br /&gt;the second picture is of the finished house. it was big. it was nice, it was fun.&lt;br /&gt;thetop picture is of an exhibition of a few of my houses at Standford Research Center in Palo Alto, CA.   the big is the one we made. the rest are vintage  ones.&lt;br /&gt;I had that Tudor for 20 yrs. finally sold it to a grandfater for his grand daughter.&lt;br /&gt;if you go down to previous post. you'll see the plans.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-3997676028202594859?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/3997676028202594859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=3997676028202594859' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3997676028202594859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3997676028202594859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/11/dream-dollhouse.html' title='DREAM DOLLHOUSE'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TRAxgukmxfI/AAAAAAAAAOA/sbUYDjmBnKM/s72-c/Image126-My%2BTudor%2BDollhouse.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-4229610465864494904</id><published>2010-11-30T03:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-17T16:48:51.628-08:00</updated><title type='text'>tudor plans</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TPTbbSynxDI/AAAAAAAAANg/1fRIXv-6hTc/s1600/Image094-tudor%2Bhouse-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 360px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TPTbbSynxDI/AAAAAAAAANg/1fRIXv-6hTc/s400/Image094-tudor%2Bhouse-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545298303147033650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-4229610465864494904?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/4229610465864494904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=4229610465864494904' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/4229610465864494904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/4229610465864494904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/11/tudor-plans.html' title='tudor plans'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TPTbbSynxDI/AAAAAAAAANg/1fRIXv-6hTc/s72-c/Image094-tudor%2Bhouse-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-7182499081071355176</id><published>2010-11-24T23:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-24T23:23:32.382-08:00</updated><title type='text'>TURKEY DAY</title><content type='html'>And turkey was never used for the first banquet.  Lots of venison though. My mom never liked venison.  you want to know why?  It tasted too 'gamey'.&lt;br /&gt;so, when we were gifted,   my dad, brother and I ate it. &lt;br /&gt;what did you have?&lt;br /&gt;Happy Thanksgiving.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-7182499081071355176?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/7182499081071355176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=7182499081071355176' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/7182499081071355176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/7182499081071355176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/11/turkey-day.html' title='TURKEY DAY'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-2302914534865894180</id><published>2010-11-18T22:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-20T20:19:53.031-08:00</updated><title type='text'>VISITING</title><content type='html'>It was really nice. two weekends ago. My Hb's brother and wife flew all the way here just see my darling.we keep in touch. but we hadn't seen them since 1999.&lt;br /&gt;we all got along rather well. I get along fine, but, long ago I must said or did something. because they have the idea, I'm an elitist. &lt;br /&gt;This time, I pulled out a couple of pics of where I grew up.  I showed them to hb's sister-in-law,  and said, 'L, I know you always thought I was a city girl. not so."&lt;br /&gt;here's where I was born and grew up. Actually, I'm a city raised,country girl"."  I used to play with the kids whose fathers worked for my dad."&lt;br /&gt;I never was aware of our difference in economic station. to me, there wasn't any 'station'. to me they were just playmates.&lt;br /&gt;So, way back when I must have done something.  I talked to L. a bit.   A she came out because she is such a nice person. Hb's brother and wife are two very geberous and kind hearted.and said, that she never had either of my blogs. But her daughter did.&lt;br /&gt;I have never, ever looked down on  my sister-in-law. had too much respect for her.&lt;br /&gt;I am very dismayed.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe, I can yet rectify that.&lt;br /&gt;Hb was dour, but so glad his brother came to see Hb. he is always surpised, when anyone is kind to him or does a kindness to him.&lt;br /&gt;W &amp;amp; L said they may be able to come out  next year. I hope so for  Hb's sake.&lt;br /&gt;**************************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-2302914534865894180?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/2302914534865894180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=2302914534865894180' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2302914534865894180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2302914534865894180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/11/visiting.html' title='VISITING'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-1244754717319030229</id><published>2010-11-13T20:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-13T20:37:29.946-08:00</updated><title type='text'>GEE-BUT, I MISS CHRISTMAS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TN9nWeFGOjI/AAAAAAAAANY/MFxGffZiWUQ/s1600/Missing%2BChristmas.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 258px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TN9nWeFGOjI/AAAAAAAAANY/MFxGffZiWUQ/s400/Missing%2BChristmas.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539259702418225714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EVERY STORE, STREETLIGHT AND TREE WERE DECORATED IN A FESTIVE WAY. CHEERFUL MUSIC PLAYED, INSIDE, OUTSIDE RESTURANT AND SHOP.  PEOPLE WERE FRIENDLY.  THE CLERKS WERE ALL HELPFUL AND  WISHED YOU HAPPY.  SHOPPERS WERE POLITE AND CONGENIAL.  A LOVELY UPBEAT PLAYFUL TIME.&lt;br /&gt;BUT NOW,  ANYTHING RELATED TO THE AMERICAN HOLIDAY, IS CLANDESTINE, SECRETED AWAY IN CORNERS OUT OF THE WAY.  HOBBY STORES NOW CARRY THE DECORATIONS.&lt;br /&gt;I REALLY MISS IT. &lt;br /&gt;I GUESS VALENTINES DAY, EASTER, AND HALLOWEEN ARE NEXT, AFTER THAT- OF COURSE WOULD BE  OUR 4TH OF JULY.&lt;br /&gt;PRETTY SOON, NO HOLIDAYS AT ALL. JUST DAYS OFF, WITH NO MEANING OR SIGNIFICANCE.&lt;br /&gt;*******************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-1244754717319030229?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/1244754717319030229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=1244754717319030229' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/1244754717319030229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/1244754717319030229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/11/gee-but-i-miss-christmas.html' title='GEE-BUT, I MISS CHRISTMAS'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TN9nWeFGOjI/AAAAAAAAANY/MFxGffZiWUQ/s72-c/Missing%2BChristmas.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-3176382277677728726</id><published>2010-11-01T23:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-01T23:33:37.453-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SNORE</title><content type='html'>yeah,  (snore) the Giants won somekind of tournament. now, just what does that  prove?&lt;br /&gt;oh, that's right. the owner made a lot of money.&lt;br /&gt;**&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-3176382277677728726?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/3176382277677728726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=3176382277677728726' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3176382277677728726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3176382277677728726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/11/snore.html' title='SNORE'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-3369447394262436663</id><published>2010-10-29T23:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-30T21:48:48.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'>OCTOBER TRAILS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TMzymgCHHiI/AAAAAAAAANQ/c4zU_Uk9RpU/s1600/PUMPKIN+GIRL.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TMzymgCHHiI/AAAAAAAAANQ/c4zU_Uk9RpU/s400/PUMPKIN+GIRL.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534064785379237410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;October, comes again,&lt;br /&gt;with bright  golden leaves,&lt;br /&gt;blustery with winds&lt;br /&gt;and chill falling rain.&lt;br /&gt;Frost has touched, the trees&lt;br /&gt;in colors,  carnival fair.&lt;br /&gt;Ruddy apples, red and sweet.&lt;br /&gt;hot pies to make,&lt;br /&gt;spicey and neat.&lt;br /&gt;pears, blushing at their best,&lt;br /&gt;to can and bake, served up&lt;br /&gt;with  cream and cinnamon zest.&lt;br /&gt;Halloween, A time of mystery&lt;br /&gt;and magic.  When the unexpected&lt;br /&gt;may turn up.&lt;br /&gt;you might see your future at&lt;br /&gt;the bottom of your&lt;br /&gt;cinnamon teacup.&lt;br /&gt;Baroque carved pumpkins,&lt;br /&gt;lighted on front verandas,&lt;br /&gt;guiding  small costumed&lt;br /&gt;spirits, in their disguises.&lt;br /&gt;from the residents,&lt;br /&gt;seeking sweet surprises.&lt;br /&gt;the  cycle moon now,&lt;br /&gt;arises. time to treat has&lt;br /&gt;come and gone,&lt;br /&gt;every goblin, elf and gnome&lt;br /&gt;returns home.&lt;br /&gt;the exciment is now over.&lt;br /&gt;but, never fear.&lt;br /&gt;October comes,&lt;br /&gt;once, each year.&lt;br /&gt;*************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-3369447394262436663?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/3369447394262436663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=3369447394262436663' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3369447394262436663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3369447394262436663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/10/october-trails.html' title='OCTOBER TRAILS'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TMzymgCHHiI/AAAAAAAAANQ/c4zU_Uk9RpU/s72-c/PUMPKIN+GIRL.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-2967107415358246025</id><published>2010-10-07T22:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T23:29:34.742-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DREAMS AND TRAILS</title><content type='html'>Feeling rushed and dismayed.&lt;br /&gt;what happened to all&lt;br /&gt;the plans we made.&lt;br /&gt;time, fleeting has gone by,&lt;br /&gt;like the birds that&lt;br /&gt;travel acrossthe sky.&lt;br /&gt;at least the birds&lt;br /&gt;have a the nack,&lt;br /&gt;to know their track.&lt;br /&gt;we know not the future trace,&lt;br /&gt;even though we plan a pace.&lt;br /&gt;looking foreward in anticipation,&lt;br /&gt;searching in great expectation.&lt;br /&gt;so much to do,&lt;br /&gt;so much to see,&lt;br /&gt;we only experienced half&lt;br /&gt;of what we'd thought,.&lt;br /&gt;the rest now can't be bought.&lt;br /&gt;no I'm not distraught,&lt;br /&gt;as I look back without a pain,&lt;br /&gt;and realize all we've gained.&lt;br /&gt;our golden time has been well spent.&lt;br /&gt;all the lovely places where we went.&lt;br /&gt;what we've seen and&lt;br /&gt;how much we learned&lt;br /&gt;experiences, to not be spurned.&lt;br /&gt;some dreams, realized,&lt;br /&gt;trails explored.&lt;br /&gt;we were never bored.&lt;br /&gt;Now I can look back,&lt;br /&gt;all I've done and all I've seen,&lt;br /&gt;I close my eyes,&lt;br /&gt;and again,&lt;br /&gt;remember all my dreams.&lt;br /&gt;*****************************&lt;br /&gt;**************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-2967107415358246025?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/2967107415358246025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=2967107415358246025' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2967107415358246025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2967107415358246025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/10/dreams-and-trails.html' title='DREAMS AND TRAILS'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-3118060663104700951</id><published>2010-09-17T14:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-25T13:27:06.705-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WISHING TO THE  'OUT THERE'</title><content type='html'>I wish something good would come around.&lt;br /&gt;surely a pleasantness could be found.&lt;br /&gt;some relief  would be  great.&lt;br /&gt;what we deal with now,&lt;br /&gt;leaves us in such a state.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I am upset,&lt;br /&gt;such a lot to handle, yet,&lt;br /&gt;no this is not a 'whine'.&lt;br /&gt;I am  just referring to this life&lt;br /&gt;of mine.&lt;br /&gt;To go shopping in a store,&lt;br /&gt;because, there are times&lt;br /&gt;shopping online can be bore.&lt;br /&gt;Buying books after long pour,&lt;br /&gt;is hard make up my mind,&lt;br /&gt;so,  no new book to find.&lt;br /&gt;I try to draw in my sketching book.&lt;br /&gt;but, no inspiration  of any kind.&lt;br /&gt;no matter where I look.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, give me back a little life,&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of all this strife.&lt;br /&gt;*************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-3118060663104700951?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/3118060663104700951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=3118060663104700951' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3118060663104700951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3118060663104700951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/09/wishing-to-out-there.html' title='WISHING TO THE  &apos;OUT THERE&apos;'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-2124629365029690095</id><published>2010-09-08T11:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-08T20:55:51.367-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NIGHTBIRD  SINGING-----</title><content type='html'>In the streamimg stillness,&lt;br /&gt;when the world lies dreaming,&lt;br /&gt;through the Deep Blue night hours,&lt;br /&gt;Comes a breath&lt;br /&gt;that overpowers&lt;br /&gt;all else around.&lt;br /&gt;Bringing all into clairity.&lt;br /&gt;Calm flows through the heart,&lt;br /&gt;that  gives the soul&lt;br /&gt;a place to rest.&lt;br /&gt;to recover a home&lt;br /&gt;within one's breast.&lt;br /&gt;hear a Night Hawk&lt;br /&gt;in flight, winging&lt;br /&gt;it's way through the night.&lt;br /&gt;listen to an Owl in oak&lt;br /&gt;resting it's wings.&lt;br /&gt;The night brings forth&lt;br /&gt;a number of things.&lt;br /&gt;All the jumbled thoughts&lt;br /&gt;of the day, find&lt;br /&gt;a time and place to fit.&lt;br /&gt;To renew the  Chi,&lt;br /&gt;to arrange them&lt;br /&gt;in an orderly way,&lt;br /&gt;which can't do during day.&lt;br /&gt;Finding out where one is&lt;br /&gt;and how to be.&lt;br /&gt;***************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-2124629365029690095?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/2124629365029690095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=2124629365029690095' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2124629365029690095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2124629365029690095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/09/nightbird-singing.html' title='NIGHTBIRD  SINGING-----'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-7707023223300695212</id><published>2010-08-28T23:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-29T00:58:50.566-07:00</updated><title type='text'>COMPUTER-WITH  OVERDRIVE</title><content type='html'>Ha, do any of you know what that means.  I was going to use a different title. But it rhymes with my real name. So, I had to  re-phrase it.&lt;br /&gt;What it refers to in this  instance, is, good grief,  we now have a faster computer.  I always was a lead foot, runs in the family.  Well, not my Mom.  Just the rest of us.  My poor old tower computer, is setting  in a dark and unused room.  My Hb. and I were finally forced , into 21st cen. Most unwilling.  But, we are getting the hang of it.   I hate change. But, life is nothing change. I wish someone had told me that as soon as I could talk.  I would have been better prepared.   &lt;br /&gt;However,  it is a little more fun, to be faster. I can watch some of the videos.   And DVDs. I watch movies. I am now looking for old movies.  Real movies. Not, this supersilious, over done, artificial,&lt;br /&gt;digital  stuff.    Sorry kids. I prefer my entertainment to have a strong story line.&lt;br /&gt; Characters to care about.  A content worth my time.  Otherwise, if I want animation. I'll watch cartoons, or  the colored, illustrated,  papermedia.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I'm still talking 'computer'.  I am able to do artwork  with it. Original art, that only exists in the hard drive.  If I want one I can print it out. But, that is really only a copy, the real one is only; 'vertual'.  Saves waste.&lt;br /&gt;With faster speed. I can order on the 'net.  Very convenient, since I can no longer go to a mall or real store.   Although,  I love to browse-shop.   I haven't been in a long time. &lt;br /&gt;Something I always wanted, my own Library.  I started collecting books. But, each time we moved, I had to sell  some of my books, because we needed the money, and wanted to cut down on the weight and packing.&lt;br /&gt;Since we moved here. I only have a few cases of books. I'm not collecting anymore.  I borrow from the city library---because:  I have a vertual Library. My computer. No dusting, no clutter and Hb. doesn't have to build more  shelves.  So, that wish has really come true.  My Dad would have liked that.  Mom would have loved the shopping  connections.   &lt;br /&gt;The email  is nice, but, not always. I only have person I trade handwrittern letters with.  You know, when someone  hand writes a USPS  letter, it's always more personal.  An email always seems  edited, so as not reveal anything too personal, because email gets 'hacked' and I.D.'s stolen.&lt;br /&gt;So,  who will I watch to night?   or shall I go to  Project Gutenberg?  Maybe check the news on Yahoo.   Perhaps, drive myself nuts at eBay.   Wow, choices, choices. &lt;br /&gt;****************************************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-7707023223300695212?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/7707023223300695212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=7707023223300695212' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/7707023223300695212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/7707023223300695212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/08/computer-with-overdrive.html' title='COMPUTER-WITH  OVERDRIVE'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-3548683772016185302</id><published>2010-08-18T22:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-18T22:51:27.224-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TWISTS AND TURNS</title><content type='html'>Life of  is a journey, of the uncertain, unknowable, unforeseeable, obstacles.  things  we hope to be maybe found, or not. potholes so deep, we almost drown.  a bump may seem a mountain, a mountain may turn out to only a bump. our perspective changes, but, we try to hope, to wish, and sometimes pray.  but everything is a surprise. I HATE surprises. they are always nasty.&lt;br /&gt;trying make a life worth living. a life that  shows it was worthwhile to our parents for bearing us and  raising us.&lt;br /&gt;Well, here we are at this, and any quality of life is diminished. My Hb. has been diagnosed with ALS.&lt;br /&gt;there is only a long list of 'can'ts'. very short list of; 'still able to'.&lt;br /&gt;at least my IBS is over, so, I am able to be there for him.&lt;br /&gt;***********************************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-3548683772016185302?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/3548683772016185302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=3548683772016185302' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3548683772016185302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3548683772016185302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/08/twists-and-turns.html' title='TWISTS AND TURNS'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-3435217843819465003</id><published>2010-08-15T14:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-15T14:10:05.683-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DAYS, LIKE LEAVES IN THE WIND</title><content type='html'>Days like leaves in the wind,&lt;br /&gt;go blowing, drifting by.&lt;br /&gt;sitting, unable to fill,&lt;br /&gt;my day with meaning.&lt;br /&gt;Too much pain,&lt;br /&gt;can't think.&lt;br /&gt;just trying--&lt;br /&gt;I write a line,&lt;br /&gt;the key says,'enter'.&lt;br /&gt;enter ? where?&lt;br /&gt;enter, what?&lt;br /&gt;who is this?  where did she come from?&lt;br /&gt;My eyes ache.  all over.&lt;br /&gt;my hips -ache-&lt;br /&gt;all over.&lt;br /&gt;I have no desire to dwell on that.&lt;br /&gt;Not, being able to create,&lt;br /&gt;is a death for an artist.&lt;br /&gt;****************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-3435217843819465003?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/3435217843819465003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=3435217843819465003' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3435217843819465003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3435217843819465003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/08/days-like-leaves-in-wind.html' title='DAYS, LIKE LEAVES IN THE WIND'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-8918938507454822262</id><published>2010-08-07T11:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-07T12:18:34.931-07:00</updated><title type='text'>VISITORS</title><content type='html'>When I began blogging, I was only writing for a couple of friends, and a relative. If anyone else ran across it and read it, well, that would be a plus.   I began in April-2006.&lt;br /&gt;I never really knew if there were any readers,  But, oh well.  I was mainly telling life stories, as counterpoint to what life is like now.&lt;br /&gt;The first time I was aware, that I was read occasionally, by  a public person,  was a direct reference to my blog about bullies I wrote. Evidently Dr. Phil has an aid who gleans for him. &lt;br /&gt;One day, I just happened to surf by, and decided  to stop and watch Dr.'s show. It was about 'bullies'. And he made a direct quote from my blog. I was delighted.  SOMEbody noticed. &lt;br /&gt;The next time , it Bill O'Reilly. During the election year.  I just got so sick and tired of all the 'blathering' and childish mud slinging, that I wrote a blog about it, and whenever any coverage of the contest came on, I tuned away.  I have heard it all.&lt;br /&gt;Later, the next night.  I was surfing as usual, ran across Bill's show, I stopped to see what he was discussing that night. And, doggone, darned if he wasn't talking about the subject of that blog.&lt;br /&gt;As I am writing this, my Hb. reminded that Oprah had also read one my stories. I don't remember that one. It may have been the 'bully' one too.&lt;br /&gt;Hah, two more articles turned up recently.&lt;br /&gt;Did you see the one:"Birdsong", well, in our local paper, one of the columnists, must have it, because he wrote about what the songs mean and and how they sung.  Robins are very romantic, and sweet talk the hen.   The writer  also listed a couple of books and some recordings available.&lt;br /&gt;I meant to save that. But, I forgot which issue.&lt;br /&gt;The latest blog borrower,  must have seen my latest entry,  about my sing washmachine. He must have went out, loaded his washer, and listened, because 'today' on yahoo, is vidieo about a guy whose machine sings and  and  has real musical beat.  Nigh knocked me off my chair. No, I wasn't angry or shocked, I was just very amused.&lt;br /&gt;So, people, sometimes it pays to surf,  read the paper. Y ou might out about fans you never knew you.&lt;br /&gt;I find it rather flattering.&lt;br /&gt;Have a nice day,  surfing.&lt;br /&gt;**************************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-8918938507454822262?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/8918938507454822262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=8918938507454822262' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8918938507454822262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8918938507454822262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/08/visitors.html' title='VISITORS'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-7284818183521313012</id><published>2010-07-26T01:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-08T21:00:41.610-07:00</updated><title type='text'>MY IMAGINATION  ????</title><content type='html'>Do your appliances sing to you?  the refrigerator,  the heater-A/C, hum show tunes, country? Washer, drier?  How about the air cleaner.  Just last night, I put some of my laundry in to wash.&lt;br /&gt;later, I stopped and listened,   darned if it didn't sound like the washer was singing: " wash that petticoat, wash that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;petticoat&lt;/span&gt;; pretty &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;pretty&lt;/span&gt; coat, pretty petty &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Petti&lt;/span&gt;coat."&lt;br /&gt;Isn't that a silly thing.&lt;br /&gt;There is a word for that impression. Has something to do with rhythums, resonances, and motor balence.  My Honeywell purofier does the same thing. I think it's built in on purpose,  to save the machine. It may be has abuilt in ability  to change  the fan, so as not wear it out. As those things are on all day and night.&lt;br /&gt;************************************.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-7284818183521313012?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/7284818183521313012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=7284818183521313012' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/7284818183521313012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/7284818183521313012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/07/my-imagination.html' title='MY IMAGINATION  ????'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-6369276880870448044</id><published>2010-07-19T20:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-19T20:34:19.783-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BIRDSONG</title><content type='html'>When we first moved to where we are now, I noticed a lot of songbirds. Really pretty, hearing them sing. Down in town, mostly just stupid annoying mocking birds. Shoot them all.  No, you can't, no guns allowed in city limits.&lt;br /&gt;Most of the little birds, I think are 'Phoebe' birds.  sweet song.  Even if they did wake us up at 5 in the AM.&lt;br /&gt;But, before my Hb. chased them away, I taught them a new song. And now I can tell my flock from the other birds.  I taught them: "sweet, sweet, pretty bird, pretty bird-sweet babee-e". They puzzle the other Phoebes, and those try to sing it, but, can't get the accent right.&lt;br /&gt;Long ago, I had read about a guy, who went around studying the birds of this valley. The west birds had a different dialect, from the birds on the east side.  I forget how many dialects he recorded. But, it was very informative.&lt;br /&gt;So, That's why I did it. and it worked. Now there is a bird flock with a different dialect, that wasn't there before. We've been here 6 years, and there is a large number of my birds.&lt;br /&gt;The Silverlight Phoebe&lt;br /&gt;********************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-6369276880870448044?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/6369276880870448044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=6369276880870448044' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/6369276880870448044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/6369276880870448044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/07/birdsong.html' title='BIRDSONG'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-9113853065142556658</id><published>2010-07-17T18:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-22T15:14:12.134-07:00</updated><title type='text'>LET THEM EAT CAKE---------------</title><content type='html'>Which cake master do you watch most?   The one with incredibly embarrassing family?  Or the real together Ace guy?   And his supportive, talented friends.&lt;br /&gt;Jersey perhaps has been around longest.&lt;br /&gt;But, Baltimore, he keeps his cool. What? you dropped the cake? I'll take a look, and see what it will take to repair it.&lt;br /&gt;BOSS:  WHAT, YOU DROPPED THE CAKE?!!??   NOW WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?    WE'RE GONNA BE LATE, ALWAYS SOMETHING, NOW WE HAVE TO MAKE NEW CAKE!  etc.-on-on and on.&lt;br /&gt;That drama.  Why does everything be a big deal. At least he has never had to stand by and watch his livelyhood burn to ashes.   Just because you're family, doesn't mean anything.  Most of the time, family employees are a trainwreck.&lt;br /&gt;I've seen that too many times, up close and personal.&lt;br /&gt;Ace, he does it because her loves it, and he has a lively creative mind.   Each cake is completely different.&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so Boss, went out and solicited a NASCAR  life size cake. doesn't count. He went to them, not the other way round.&lt;br /&gt;I do not care for Cupcake Wars.  Dull idea..&lt;br /&gt;I like cake. My Mom and I like cake, as did Dad and my two brothers.   We used to bake cake three or four times a month. depended on how fast it was eaten.&lt;br /&gt;But, back then, 'fancy' home cakes were de trope. You could buy them at a bakery, and you didn't mess up the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;What was funny though. when I went away to  jr. college. At the dorm, our housemother, handed me the  the cake and tubes of icing, and said. 'Well, since you are the artist, you can decorate the cake."&lt;br /&gt;I was so surprised!! Then I laughed,  "Well now, my very first  personally commissioned, piece of art!!".  one has to start somewhere."&lt;br /&gt;So, for the next two years, I put the decorations on all  and any, celebratory cakes, Mrs. Key made.&lt;br /&gt;No, I've never worked in a bakery.  As it turned out, I became a floral designer instead.&lt;br /&gt;******************************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-9113853065142556658?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/9113853065142556658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=9113853065142556658' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/9113853065142556658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/9113853065142556658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/07/let-them-eat-cake.html' title='LET THEM EAT CAKE---------------'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-8628384513577719221</id><published>2010-07-15T22:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-16T23:35:13.663-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ALWAYS LOSS-NEVER GAIN</title><content type='html'>A friend I made when in my 30's. We seem to have a lot in common. One of those connect, where one fills the spaces of the other one.  A gal pal. Both our mother's had had cancer. Both still fighting it.  We are both artistic. And most of all, at that, a kindred soul who had the same passion for dolls.  Someone at last to 'play dolls' with. something we each never had as kid.  We even put together a doll club of similar enthusiasm.   We were in doll heaven. A real time of doll bliss. There were a community of local doll clubs and twice a year we would arrange an all clubs party.  Then were local doll conferences. the  national  doll  convention.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-8628384513577719221?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/8628384513577719221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=8628384513577719221' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8628384513577719221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8628384513577719221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/07/always-loss-never-gain.html' title='ALWAYS LOSS-NEVER GAIN'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-3974027170099607051</id><published>2010-07-14T00:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-16T23:37:08.725-07:00</updated><title type='text'>STILLNESS</title><content type='html'>A pleasant place to be.&lt;br /&gt;To find the place&lt;br /&gt;within my mind,&lt;br /&gt;where   the CHI&lt;br /&gt;and heart resides.&lt;br /&gt;the plugin to the&lt;br /&gt;opening of  connection&lt;br /&gt;to 'that which is'&lt;br /&gt;abides.  where the soul&lt;br /&gt;is refreshed, and renewed,&lt;br /&gt;we find ourselves again.&lt;br /&gt;guided to an eternal spring&lt;br /&gt;rising from  the depths&lt;br /&gt;of the mountain under&lt;br /&gt;willows, we cup our  hands&lt;br /&gt;and sip,&lt;br /&gt;bringing sweet refreshment&lt;br /&gt;to our lips.&lt;br /&gt;*****************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-3974027170099607051?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/3974027170099607051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=3974027170099607051' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3974027170099607051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3974027170099607051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/06/stillness.html' title='STILLNESS'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-1514731751473550911</id><published>2010-07-01T21:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-01T21:53:06.349-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE BELL YET RINGS</title><content type='html'>But, now it rings for different things. not, exactly as it was meant. someone has rather shifted, the meaning and  the frame. the picture is not quite the same. Tom, Ben and John, today  would wonder, where their dream had gone.&lt;br /&gt;sad, now to view, the melting pot, has become puzzling stew, a goulash, a dreadful soup.&lt;br /&gt;it would quite knock them for loop.  a trouble they did not foresee,  congress, no matter what they do or say, end up only wanting things--'their' way.&lt;br /&gt;speeches, so grand, full of bombast, are made of hot air--only a short blast.&lt;br /&gt;the experiment so grand, has very gotten out of hand.  up a creek, no one has paddle,  did anyone think to bring a horse--with the saddle?&lt;br /&gt;**********************************&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&amp;amp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-1514731751473550911?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/1514731751473550911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=1514731751473550911' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/1514731751473550911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/1514731751473550911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/07/bell-yet-rings.html' title='THE BELL YET RINGS'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-944088635066420131</id><published>2010-06-27T23:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-28T05:13:40.290-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ELUSIVE</title><content type='html'>I never seem to have the talent to make friends.  there was a couple of girls who were in my grade. we all went  grade school together. but, soon as we hit Jr. high and high school, they dropped me, like I never existed. I am a nice person, maybe too nice one girl said. !!?  I refused to be excluded in a lot of things. So, I just insinuated myself.  Hated GYM.  Lucille Crumb and I were always the last to be chosen.  You know what, in a case like that. Just draw straws and choose the awkward ones first. Get the misery and embarrassment over with.  Then you still have the choice of the  adept players. Man, I hate sports. But I Like NASCAR though. When I was young, I could have outraced those  yoyos, three to four  times a year  at least.  I rather tended to have a fearless streak in me, like a guy.&lt;br /&gt;I did it again. I digressed.&lt;br /&gt;In Jr. college, lived the new dorm. Really liked it. They seemed to approve of me. Got along fine. Some of the girls asked if they could come spend a weekend with me at my home.  sure, I just let Mom know.   But, none of the associations lasted.&lt;br /&gt;Later at State, I shared an apartment with Frieda whom I grew up with. so, never met anyone at school.  our other roommate, by then we three had rented a three bedroom house. Really nice)&lt;br /&gt;We joined a singles group at the Presbyterian church. Dated a few,  never made friends with any girls. After Frieda married, a girl I had classes with, knew I was looking for a new place. Anelda said, we have room come stay with us. Now they were fun. That made five girls in a two bedroom apartment. That's another story.  How did we all fit? Bunk beds. But, they gave me the single bed. Very generous.&lt;br /&gt;Kept in touch with them a long time, but even then, we drifted away.&lt;br /&gt;******************************&lt;br /&gt;Enough for now.. But, I don't seem to have any staying ability for making and keeping friends. They all, I guess find me boring and drop me.&lt;br /&gt;*****************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-944088635066420131?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/944088635066420131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=944088635066420131' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/944088635066420131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/944088635066420131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/06/elusive.html' title='ELUSIVE'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-2303489217542185568</id><published>2010-06-24T23:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-25T01:03:00.360-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TIME-WAIT A MINUTE-----</title><content type='html'>Jeez, here it is. June is almost over. In fact, I'm still trying  to figure  where June-24, went. come back here you. I'm not done with you yet. &lt;br /&gt;I stay up late chasing down the day. Trying to catch up. Wanting to accomplish something, to have a meaning to the day.  But, Time just laughs and runs on. Time has no consideration of a person's needs or sensibilities. Time is very selfish. &lt;br /&gt;I mean, here it is, not only, June-24, but it's: June-24-2010!!!??  I guess I was busy or sleeping. Well, no, we were in Hawaii, watched the century change, around the world.  Got, a bad case of firecracker smoke inhalation. cough-cough-hack.   Enough to give one emphysema.  We decided to not go back during a holiday. But, 2001 happened. We nver made it over there again.&lt;br /&gt;Now that I'm older, time seems to have really compacted.  There are fewer hours in the day. Did some society re-calebrate the clock, and I didn't notice. Be just like them.&lt;br /&gt;It's very disconcerting.  Things I work on appear to take longer.   Time is just not friendly to people. Time does what it chooses, and we HAVE to deal with it. Pitts!!&lt;br /&gt;Time is messing up my life!!   And I don't care for that.   Although Time is OK.  Considering the alternitive.&lt;br /&gt;*****************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-2303489217542185568?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/2303489217542185568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=2303489217542185568' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2303489217542185568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2303489217542185568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/06/time-wait-minute.html' title='TIME-WAIT A MINUTE-----'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-1483675388696050063</id><published>2010-06-20T19:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-20T20:37:11.654-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FATHER'S DAY</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TB7eTSnUGTI/AAAAAAAAAMw/pWSEh7mn6vo/s1600/Image060%3DHome+winter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 335px; height: 337px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TB7eTSnUGTI/AAAAAAAAAMw/pWSEh7mn6vo/s400/Image060%3DHome+winter.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485065819179456818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I haven't ever made an entry about my Dad.  Maybe you thought my relationship with wasn't good. Quite the opposite.   We were very close, we were buddies.  almost the same as a boy and father were, except of course, I was daughter, not son. but, I did have two brothers.&lt;br /&gt;It was   Daddy who taught me about life, what to value,  what wasn't necessary.  To be honest, don't lie.  (Lying is too complicated, and you end all tangled upside down in a brier patch anyway.) Most people seem to think they can lie their way out of-what. Idiots.&lt;br /&gt;Dad taught me how to drive,what makes a car work.  And taught me the value and pleasure of learning to read.  Be honest, trustworthy,  And the value and reason to have a good education. Another thing, he showed me the need to handle money.  So many Life skills, the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;road map&lt;/span&gt; to to navigate  the ups and downs, you run into.&lt;br /&gt;No matter what I did, he was there for me.  One time I was on the way back to college, and half way there, my Buick conked off on me.  It was after 10-0r 11:pm. I made it to the motel and lucky, they had a room. so I checked in, and called my parents as to what to do. We didn't have  triple AAA. I was 4hrs. away.  My Mom and Dad, got dressed, told my kid brother go to his Aunt, then took off and drove through the night to come help me.  I mean, is that Love or what?  They were great. They would have done the same for my brothers too.&lt;br /&gt;If we needed them, they were always there. Not 'helicopter'.  Just love and  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;responsibility&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;I miss them, yet. They were not just my parents, they were my best friends.&lt;br /&gt;*********************************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-1483675388696050063?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/1483675388696050063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=1483675388696050063' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/1483675388696050063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/1483675388696050063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/06/fathers-day.html' title='FATHER&apos;S DAY'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TB7eTSnUGTI/AAAAAAAAAMw/pWSEh7mn6vo/s72-c/Image060%3DHome+winter.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-2867452037681609144</id><published>2010-06-14T12:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-14T12:50:10.837-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FREEDOM---?</title><content type='html'>Did you see the story today?   There are slaves in AMERICA.  There are those who come here in the  diplomatic guise, who surreptitiously  hold slaves. Knowing their residences are sacrosanct. &lt;br /&gt;The  officials trick some of their own people, to come. Then deny them their God given right, and hold them in bondage. This has been going on for years. only now,  something my be able to done &lt;br /&gt;for these poor people. This is a blatant  and disrespectful  subterfuge. An elitist mindset.  A  knowingly breaking of one our  most precious rights.   There was slavery here. A shameful thing, in country like ours. .  As a kid, I didn't understand why people wouldn't pay for honest labor.  I later  learned the answer. Didn't care for it.  It's called:greed.&lt;br /&gt;******************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-2867452037681609144?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/2867452037681609144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=2867452037681609144' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2867452037681609144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2867452037681609144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/06/freedom.html' title='FREEDOM---?'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-470904594460554804</id><published>2010-06-13T15:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-13T15:49:40.671-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HOT AND  LETHARGIC</title><content type='html'>We have had a long chilly stretch  of weather. Then, zap! hot weather. Very uncomfortable.  Just adds to my inertia.&lt;br /&gt;Not at all conducive for any kind of creativity.  I have finally after all these years, been able to come to terms with the dry spells. They are a natural aspect  in the creative process. Only wish I could have worked that out long ago.&lt;br /&gt;Would have made things a whole lot easier. Oh well, guess that is part the process of maturing. Some things belong where they are. And are just some of the bumps and potholes in the road of Life.&lt;br /&gt;I used to be frantic. I would never get things done I wanted to do. Now, it's, so what. I will get done what ever gets done.   I do what pleases me.  And  forget about the rest.&lt;br /&gt;***************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-470904594460554804?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/470904594460554804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=470904594460554804' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/470904594460554804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/470904594460554804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/06/hot-and-lethargic.html' title='HOT AND  LETHARGIC'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-2318738627193527296</id><published>2010-06-06T00:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T00:30:16.439-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SPELLING BEE</title><content type='html'>Or, rather-'spelng be'. Really!  Did you see in the news, about the nitwits picketing the Bee in  Washingto,D.C.?  ttey say American English is hard to learn!! Gosh, things are hard, when you have to actuallyapply yourself. &lt;br /&gt;Why do I HAVE to learn all this?   Why do you have to go to school. &lt;br /&gt;English is not a language that has formal construction. English is a  trader's language. Formed here and there by migrating peoples.  Put together BY  wandering tribes looking for new lands and hunting grounds.  By traders picking up the words  AND new trade goods, that would be gathered and taken to a trading center.  The language has a very rich history. &lt;br /&gt;Kids do not care about school, because their parents didn't, lazy makes lazy.  When my older brother and I asked our mom and dad that. They both set us down and explained the facts of life.&lt;br /&gt;you can't get a job to work and have a life.  You can't handle money, you can't drive car. Because you need to read, write(spell) and do maths. Or you do not get any place in this world. &lt;br /&gt;Even though our economic  situation is pretty poor right now. We still have to learn. The kids coming  along, they are the future of our country.  Because, if they aren't educated, we become a third world  country.  &lt;br /&gt;Do you really want to live in a cardboard box?&lt;br /&gt;****************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-2318738627193527296?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/2318738627193527296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=2318738627193527296' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2318738627193527296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2318738627193527296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/06/spelling-bee.html' title='SPELLING BEE'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-8508575476079851270</id><published>2010-06-02T19:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-02T19:33:58.397-07:00</updated><title type='text'>JUNE</title><content type='html'>The year half gone already.  Nothing good has happened for months. We are both getting very tired of not feeling well.   Hb. is losing strength in his shouldered, arms and hands.  I have various stuff  to deal with. The neural dermatitis outbreak on my scalp is so painful most of the time. I just go lie down when I can't stand it anymore.  Eventually I fall asleep out of exhaustion.&lt;br /&gt;So, haven't been able to do anything. &lt;br /&gt;*************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-8508575476079851270?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/8508575476079851270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=8508575476079851270' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8508575476079851270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8508575476079851270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/06/june.html' title='JUNE'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-1881808976519758869</id><published>2010-05-29T07:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T12:01:39.292-07:00</updated><title type='text'>UH-HELLO- COUSIN?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TAErC-Z7v2I/AAAAAAAAAMY/V6qj5Ttp9XY/s1600/new-handfish-species-pink_20881_600x450.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 291px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TAErC-Z7v2I/AAAAAAAAAMY/V6qj5Ttp9XY/s400/new-handfish-species-pink_20881_600x450.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476705951970738018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;If you go to your search engine and type in 'fish with hands', it should lead you a story on the national geographic site, about some newly sighted creatures.  They are just discovered, and already in danger of extinction. Man, aren't people so self involved! any way, there only about 14 species around the world are  known.   Nifty little creatures.   The sites shows pictures of four of the fishes.  No-they would NOT make good pets!&lt;br /&gt;I just love it when something like this turns up.  So far, the only other species know to have hands, are primates.&lt;br /&gt;But, go look,    before they disappear.&lt;br /&gt;The Yangtze  River Dolphin just went extinct recently------------------Shame.&lt;br /&gt;******************************************&lt;br /&gt;Oh, yeah, (ha,ha.) Raccoons have hands.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-1881808976519758869?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/1881808976519758869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=1881808976519758869' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/1881808976519758869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/1881808976519758869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/05/uh-hello-cousin.html' title='UH-HELLO- COUSIN?'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TAErC-Z7v2I/AAAAAAAAAMY/V6qj5Ttp9XY/s72-c/new-handfish-species-pink_20881_600x450.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-5556340554559851658</id><published>2010-05-28T19:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T11:59:16.704-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DOLL STORY</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TAFaRqSfLaI/AAAAAAAAAMg/pWvog3wG5K0/s1600/Mini+Dolls-1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 373px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TAFaRqSfLaI/AAAAAAAAAMg/pWvog3wG5K0/s400/Mini+Dolls-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476757881315339682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I found this little piece in an old magazine. Unfortunately, at that time, the photo copiers were rather primitive. And I won't be able to include the lovely drawing the goes with it.   It wasn't clear to start with and it's faded.&lt;br /&gt;But the story is fun.&lt;br /&gt;So, for any doll lovers that may unintentionally run across this  site--I give you:&lt;br /&gt;*******************************&lt;br /&gt;ANNE  MARIE JANE MacGEE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;by: Rebecca Deming Moore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, Anne  Marie Jane MacGee&lt;br /&gt;was not a doll  of high degree:&lt;br /&gt;In fact, she was extremely small&lt;br /&gt;And hadn't any points at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sue bought her at the corner store--&lt;br /&gt;A ten-cent piece, she cost no more.&lt;br /&gt;but, Susie thought her very sweet&lt;br /&gt;And set out to make her very sweet.&lt;br /&gt;She cut and basted, stitched and sewed&lt;br /&gt;Till there were gowns in every mode.&lt;br /&gt;There was a sailor suit of blue,&lt;br /&gt;A yachting cap and sweater, too;&lt;br /&gt;A jumper dress of vivid pink,&lt;br /&gt;a lacy hat made in a wink,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some fresh, cool frocks for summer trips,&lt;br /&gt;A bathing-suit for ocean dips.&lt;br /&gt;(As  Annie was a china doll,&lt;br /&gt;A dip would  harm her not at all.)&lt;br /&gt;She had a party dress of white&lt;br /&gt;(Indeed! it was a lovely sight.),&lt;br /&gt;A scarlet coat, both thick and warm,&lt;br /&gt;To shield her from the winter's storm.&lt;br /&gt;As if  this were not enough,&lt;br /&gt;Sue added, next, a tie and muff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, Anne Maria Jane MacGee&lt;br /&gt;Has had her share, won't you agree?&lt;br /&gt;But, she won't be a stuck up doll&lt;br /&gt;For Mother's piece bag furnished all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*****************************&lt;br /&gt;The doll, I think, may be a 'frozen Charlotte type' china doll. Or a small all porcelain like these.  The doll on the left is 4 1/2" tall, and from the 1920's or 30's. The doll on the right is pre-1900. All porcelain,  and 4 1/4" tall.&lt;br /&gt;I crocheted the little dresses.&lt;br /&gt;*****************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-5556340554559851658?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/5556340554559851658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=5556340554559851658' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/5556340554559851658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/5556340554559851658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/05/doll-story.html' title='DOLL STORY'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/TAFaRqSfLaI/AAAAAAAAAMg/pWvog3wG5K0/s72-c/Mini+Dolls-1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-763738742660619120</id><published>2010-05-18T21:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-18T21:46:59.427-07:00</updated><title type='text'>GREAT-JAKE!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S_NrYOkitqI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/wr5woD39qPM/s1600/world_tallest_horse_guinness_record_belgium.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S_NrYOkitqI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/wr5woD39qPM/s400/world_tallest_horse_guinness_record_belgium.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472836036157683362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;In a previous entry. I wrote about the tiniest horse. OK, opposite end. Here is 'Jake', he now is classified as the 'tallest' horse, in the world.  Jake is a Belgian, and stands-almost 6 feet 11" at the whithers.  The previous horse is a Clydesdale.&lt;br /&gt;Jake is shown with his friend. a very little  gray horse, named, Nemo. I saw a video of Jake, his owner was showing him off. Jake has the nicest gate. a smooth show canter, makes him seem to just float. Nice.&lt;br /&gt;I love horses.  And I really like friendly animals.&lt;br /&gt;In an accompanying article, there is picture of the 'biggest' horse in the world. a huge white horse in Australia. The horse is taller and bigger than the gazebo they have posed him by. These horses must be carrying a recessive gene that produces a throwback to the time of the giant mammals. The  only really true species of large horse now, is the Ardennes, in France.   Before i make a claim like that, I probably should consult my horse books.&lt;br /&gt;**************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-763738742660619120?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/763738742660619120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=763738742660619120' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/763738742660619120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/763738742660619120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/05/great-jake.html' title='GREAT-JAKE!!'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S_NrYOkitqI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/wr5woD39qPM/s72-c/world_tallest_horse_guinness_record_belgium.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-4908844915363301576</id><published>2010-05-12T22:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-12T23:09:14.200-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BUT CAN YOU KNIT A SWEATER?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S-uS7OoFS9I/AAAAAAAAAMI/IZ-Y1WwCNPQ/s1600/Curly+Coat+Pigs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 294px; height: 294px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S-uS7OoFS9I/AAAAAAAAAMI/IZ-Y1WwCNPQ/s400/Curly+Coat+Pigs.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470627718607752146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you seen this?  I found it on yahoo.  these are curly coat pigs from Austria and Hungary.  I'm always looking unusual  animal  stories.  Never heard of  this one before.  So  interesting. These are two female pigs, just arrived to a zoo in  Essex, England.   They are quite excited, the beige pig may be preggers.  This species is very rare, almost extinct and the zoo is one of serveral in the world trying to save rare,  but not popular farm animals.   We really must retain the  gene pool, to keep all creatures healthy. &lt;br /&gt;There were two species left, but the last of the other one died last year,  I  think it said. Way,way&lt;br /&gt;too bad. &lt;br /&gt;****************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-4908844915363301576?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/4908844915363301576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=4908844915363301576' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/4908844915363301576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/4908844915363301576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/05/but-can-you-knit-sweater.html' title='BUT CAN YOU KNIT A SWEATER?'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S-uS7OoFS9I/AAAAAAAAAMI/IZ-Y1WwCNPQ/s72-c/Curly+Coat+Pigs.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-2684961076841545068</id><published>2010-05-10T00:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T01:15:05.704-07:00</updated><title type='text'>UNICORN  BOOK</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S-e6ih1tLlI/AAAAAAAAAL4/obIXX_DTmGk/s1600/unicorn+book+and+figure.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 355px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S-e6ih1tLlI/AAAAAAAAAL4/obIXX_DTmGk/s400/unicorn+book+and+figure.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469545374826704466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This  is the book I am reading now.  I had seen it it back in 1987.  There was a huge fad going on unicorns, fairies, angels and dragons. I never follow  fads.  Am a horse fanatic. I choose my own  interests.  So, I didn't buy this one back. Just found it again recently.   I only borrowed it from the library, because I was drawing my 'flower girl'  and needed  more research on the  flowers used in the old tap  estries.The bonus is, I found out a lot of lore about the unicorn myth and legend  I never knew before.   Learned a lot about the mythic symbols of flowers and plants.&lt;br /&gt;Very nice book, well written, clear and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;concise.&lt;br /&gt;This my own copy. After reading the library copy, I decided to get my own copy. Bought it on Amazon.  practically unused.  Got it for a great price too.&lt;br /&gt;The unicorn  is a seasonal creature.  and identified with moon. Now I finally understand the  point of the story: 'The colt from Moon Mountain', Dorothy Lathrop.&lt;br /&gt;*****************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-2684961076841545068?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/2684961076841545068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=2684961076841545068' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2684961076841545068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2684961076841545068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/05/unicorn-book.html' title='UNICORN  BOOK'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S-e6ih1tLlI/AAAAAAAAAL4/obIXX_DTmGk/s72-c/unicorn+book+and+figure.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-8059050852815594813</id><published>2010-05-06T03:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-11T17:04:23.917-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DISCONNECTING</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S-KalFPUeyI/AAAAAAAAALo/9ZPtA8cpXW4/s1600/Image013-goodbye.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 251px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S-KalFPUeyI/AAAAAAAAALo/9ZPtA8cpXW4/s400/Image013-goodbye.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468102859433474850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I have never known how to say -goodbye. It is always awkward.  How long do I stay? What do I say?   Did I say something I ought not of said. Was there something I should have said?  Was there something I should have done?  or not done.  Such things just leave me undone. &lt;br /&gt;OK. &lt;br /&gt;Now,&lt;br /&gt;How do I end this entry?&lt;br /&gt;*************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-8059050852815594813?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/8059050852815594813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=8059050852815594813' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8059050852815594813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8059050852815594813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/05/disconnecting.html' title='DISCONNECTING'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S-KalFPUeyI/AAAAAAAAALo/9ZPtA8cpXW4/s72-c/Image013-goodbye.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-5789026702885907556</id><published>2010-05-05T23:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-07T00:13:03.563-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TO  MYSELF  EMPOWER</title><content type='html'>I've always wanted&lt;br /&gt;a place of my own,&lt;br /&gt;where I could have some time alone.&lt;br /&gt;my room, my garden , my private bower,&lt;br /&gt;Where  I had space for maybe on hour.&lt;br /&gt;Ten minutes, 15,   30 minutes,&lt;br /&gt;whatever  I could  take&lt;br /&gt;To write, draw, paint or sew.&lt;br /&gt;Time to create.&lt;br /&gt;Or, riches,&lt;br /&gt;read a book.&lt;br /&gt;Before I knew it,&lt;br /&gt;Mom would from the kitchen&lt;br /&gt;down the hall.&lt;br /&gt;"come here and do the dishes",&lt;br /&gt;she would call.&lt;br /&gt;"do the ironing, mop the floor",&lt;br /&gt;after that will be more".&lt;br /&gt;So I put down the pen, the brush,the book,&lt;br /&gt;or  put away the needles and pins.&lt;br /&gt;I'd reply, "coming, in a min".&lt;br /&gt;I didn't mind helping Mom,&lt;br /&gt;because the home was my house too,&lt;br /&gt;It's just that she always&lt;br /&gt;had something for me to do.&lt;br /&gt;Being creative was a waste of time.&lt;br /&gt;There are more important things&lt;br /&gt;to learn.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, well, another time.&lt;br /&gt;Time is not made to burn.&lt;br /&gt;Reading if not at school,&lt;br /&gt;is frivolous  and&lt;br /&gt;is only for a fool.&lt;br /&gt;**********************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-5789026702885907556?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/5789026702885907556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=5789026702885907556' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/5789026702885907556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/5789026702885907556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/05/to-myself-empower.html' title='TO  MYSELF  EMPOWER'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-6310110611452308808</id><published>2010-05-01T19:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-01T20:03:41.835-07:00</updated><title type='text'>POETRY</title><content type='html'>I just saw a story on yahoo about April being poetry month.   Amazing.  Poetry needing labels!?  What, it should rated as movies are? I don't know.  Maybe the solution would be a  vetting system.&lt;br /&gt;Another thing. I was reading the comments to the story. Some brave person admitted, that they didn't 'get' poetry.   That is really too bad.   But, maybe they are just not into reading either.&lt;br /&gt;Prose is the communication of the mind.&lt;br /&gt;Poetry is the voice of  the spirit.&lt;br /&gt;Music  is the expression of the soul.&lt;br /&gt; I know I was disappointed to find my youngest nephew  always fell asleep when he tried to read.   I unfortunately was not around enough to keep him interested. So, he does videos instead.&lt;br /&gt;My step=half-nephew- Beau, he is my full nephew's half-brother, well that kid is a total bookworm. Thank goodness. &lt;br /&gt;*************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-6310110611452308808?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/6310110611452308808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=6310110611452308808' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/6310110611452308808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/6310110611452308808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/05/poetry.html' title='POETRY'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-8618642938620641974</id><published>2010-04-27T17:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-27T18:03:48.317-07:00</updated><title type='text'>INTRODUCING:--</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S9eHiRRPc4I/AAAAAAAAALY/ZmG7ckpmkug/s1600/tiny.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 399px; height: 268px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S9eHiRRPc4I/AAAAAAAAALY/ZmG7ckpmkug/s400/tiny.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464985695658406786" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Hello world,  this is a tiny little horse.   Have you seen this yet? Absolutely adorable. Just newborn and in the Guinness book as the smallest horse alive.  Just bumped the previous one. His name is 'Einstein'  and he is only 14"  tall from the ground to the top of his head. Precious. I had a toy-miniature poodle once, she was 12" at shoulders, even she was  taller!  Mommy, can I have one?    As if.  He is just my size horse.&lt;br /&gt;*****************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-8618642938620641974?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/8618642938620641974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=8618642938620641974' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8618642938620641974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8618642938620641974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/04/introducing.html' title='INTRODUCING:--'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S9eHiRRPc4I/AAAAAAAAALY/ZmG7ckpmkug/s72-c/tiny.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-5321300007488998507</id><published>2010-04-24T10:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-24T10:43:29.788-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HERO DOG</title><content type='html'>And they say, there ain't no angels or miracles.   (I know, bad English, it's for a purpose)&lt;br /&gt; Well,  read the story on yahoo. Our pets are learning new &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;behaviors&lt;/span&gt;, and passing them in their genes. Stories like these are popping up quite &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;frequently&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;**********************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-5321300007488998507?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/5321300007488998507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=5321300007488998507' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/5321300007488998507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/5321300007488998507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/04/hero-dog.html' title='HERO DOG'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-3610590525416595881</id><published>2010-04-22T23:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-22T23:27:23.530-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DOLL COLLECTOR</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S9E9rRbvfDI/AAAAAAAAALQ/V7MPjZeiYEo/s1600/Image010-2-pink.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 336px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S9E9rRbvfDI/AAAAAAAAALQ/V7MPjZeiYEo/s400/Image010-2-pink.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463215636600552498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This the picture I drew to go with that entry.  Dolls that I like, but not ones I really have. Just to show the variety that I collect.&lt;br /&gt;*******************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-3610590525416595881?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/3610590525416595881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=3610590525416595881' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3610590525416595881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3610590525416595881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/04/doll-collector_22.html' title='DOLL COLLECTOR'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S9E9rRbvfDI/AAAAAAAAALQ/V7MPjZeiYEo/s72-c/Image010-2-pink.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-6293285259665415327</id><published>2010-04-18T18:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-18T18:18:10.105-07:00</updated><title type='text'>GREEN HORSES</title><content type='html'>After I had found the pastel of the green horses, I started to try to remember  'why' I made green. so, today I looked up Marc. And rediscovered why. Marc worked in red, blue and yellow mainly.  To  each of those basic he gave a meaning.   Blue for man, yellow for woman, and red,for the violence  in the world.  That's why I used green. He never did. Besides green to me means  Life and harmony. &lt;br /&gt;Green is my favorite color.  Also, pink and rose.   But, that is a separate story.&lt;br /&gt;Franz in a fit of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;patriotism&lt;/span&gt;, joined the German Army,  sent of to the trenches of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Verdun&lt;/span&gt;, WWI, and was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;promptly&lt;/span&gt; killed. Great loss. He was German. There had been an order of excuse, didn't get sent off in time.&lt;br /&gt;********************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-6293285259665415327?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/6293285259665415327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=6293285259665415327' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/6293285259665415327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/6293285259665415327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/04/green-horses.html' title='GREEN HORSES'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-451250353584536325</id><published>2010-04-17T23:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-18T18:23:08.809-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WATER STEEDS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S8qn3IjoNyI/AAAAAAAAALI/BEPgEPmlP_A/s1600/Image010-Green+Horses.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 283px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S8qn3IjoNyI/AAAAAAAAALI/BEPgEPmlP_A/s400/Image010-Green+Horses.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461362063771711266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We have moved so many times over the years, things   become shuffled around, mislaid, misplaced, lost and  forgotten.   I have done two, or three past blogs on this subject.  I'm always finding forgotten things.&lt;br /&gt;Well, last week I  was poking through my stock piled art supplies, and good grief,  where did this come from.  It was a VERY old  art tablet of pastel paper.  There are only three pieces in it. And two are dated; 1961, the other; 1962.   My horses are the lighter weight horses, instead of the farm horses , Marc used.  All of the subjects are , yes, Horses. My  'Franz Marc'  period. I really was taken by both his art style and subject.  I especially preferred his horses. Although all of his animals compositions are favorites. Later on I  found and purchased an art book, all in color of all his works.  Wonderful book.   I sold it long ago when I needed some money.  Didn't get a good price for it though. That was before the Internet and eBay.  Nowadays, it would be way  beyond anything I could afford.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I found the tablet with the pastels, well, two pastel, one ink. I really haven't done anything like them since. Maybe I will again now.   I'll have to borrow a book from the library, rather than buy my own.&lt;br /&gt;Here are the green horses.  I had done what I wanted to  with them.&lt;br /&gt;*******************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-451250353584536325?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/451250353584536325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=451250353584536325' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/451250353584536325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/451250353584536325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/04/water-steeds.html' title='WATER STEEDS'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S8qn3IjoNyI/AAAAAAAAALI/BEPgEPmlP_A/s72-c/Image010-Green+Horses.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-517379334758316970</id><published>2010-04-15T22:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-16T04:04:40.564-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FLORA-2004</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S8fxqAFlZfI/AAAAAAAAAK4/5MjFp1bgSS0/s1600/Image017%3DLady+Flora-orig.+paper+doll.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 325px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S8fxqAFlZfI/AAAAAAAAAK4/5MjFp1bgSS0/s400/Image017%3DLady+Flora-orig.+paper+doll.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460598777090237938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I had forgotten about this design I had made back in 2004. I was designing paper dolls for my own amusement.  Rather than make one doll with lots of costumes. I just drew a figure  already dressed.&lt;br /&gt;The art style I drew my  influence from the Art  Deco era. I had just sort of rediscovered it , from gleaning through the collectible  postcard category on the online aution site.  I was especially  inspiredby the artist, Chiostri.   Charmimg  and lovely ladies and the art style.&lt;br /&gt;I think I drew about 50 different figures . I'll have to count and find out. It was 6 years ago.   &lt;br /&gt;I have a box full that I printed, painted and cut out.&lt;br /&gt;So, anyway, this Flora was drawn before I remembered the  Primavera Flora.&lt;br /&gt;***************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-517379334758316970?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/517379334758316970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=517379334758316970' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/517379334758316970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/517379334758316970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/04/flora2004.html' title='FLORA-2004'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S8fxqAFlZfI/AAAAAAAAAK4/5MjFp1bgSS0/s72-c/Image017%3DLady+Flora-orig.+paper+doll.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-4480115175278032851</id><published>2010-04-15T01:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-17T12:00:45.975-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DOLL COLLECTOR</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S8bNBvieqtI/AAAAAAAAAKw/_j6wNsdvaEg/s1600/Little+Girl+and+Dolls-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 274px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S8bNBvieqtI/AAAAAAAAAKw/_j6wNsdvaEg/s400/Little+Girl+and+Dolls-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460277028057950930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A few years ago, my good friend who is into dolls too. Asked, why do I like dolls?&lt;br /&gt;Good question. Her husband, after all these years, had  asked her that question.   I told her at that time, That I had no idea.  I just am very attracted to them. So, since then, I have mulled over that question. Trying to  find out just why.&lt;br /&gt;The following essay, is as close as I can get for now.&lt;br /&gt;**********************&lt;br /&gt;I collect dolls. I love dolls. Dolls, dolls, dolls. They are they epitome of the  ideal lady.  Or children. Depending on the dolls you admire the most. I much prefer the representations of adult lady dolls. They have beautiful faces, beautiful clothes, and most of all, they have lovely smiles. Where the land of dolls resides and dolls come from, they  always project happiness and congeniality.  The dolls are cheerful and always smile. a land of fantasy where everyone is nice, and are good to each other. No jealousy, no envy, no spite.  A cherished doll is loved, and does love back. the is a true charm of a doll. No criticism, no judgement.   Just acceptance as we are.&lt;br /&gt;DOLLS are dreams. They are faithful, loyal companions.  never do they say hurtful things, neither do they gossip. Each doll is unique and has her own being,  yet, at the same time be our Avatars, our other self.  When we play, our own lives project on how we treat our dolls. By treating our dolls and toys with respect, we therefore can learn to be respectful to real people and all living beings. Dolls are our first best friends.&lt;br /&gt;Having a doll with lots of clothing, children learn about style and dress. What is  appropriate for different occasions. What color enhances or detracts  our complexion.&lt;br /&gt;Having a doll with lots of clothing was a dream of mine as a child. I didn't get until I was an adult and made my own. With 35  changes. Plus hats, shoes and accessories. Hand knitted stockings made by me.&lt;br /&gt;A doll collector  loves dolls for many reasons. But,  they  are  an appreciation of art, beauty and  gracefulness of the better things in life.&lt;br /&gt;Grace, as in style, good manners.&lt;br /&gt;___________________&lt;br /&gt;Besides: " The Study Of Dolls Is The Study Of Human History".  And that direction can help us better understand the whys of the human condition.&lt;br /&gt;That is the slogan of the UFDC.  Great organization.&lt;br /&gt;This affliction also covers, art, science, history, commerce, textiles, crafts.&lt;br /&gt;I came to that consideration later. Mostly, I love dolls, because they are 'Pretty' and I love beauty in all it's forms.&lt;br /&gt;*****************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-4480115175278032851?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/4480115175278032851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=4480115175278032851' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/4480115175278032851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/4480115175278032851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/04/doll-collector.html' title='DOLL COLLECTOR'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S8bNBvieqtI/AAAAAAAAAKw/_j6wNsdvaEg/s72-c/Little+Girl+and+Dolls-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-6471889825131583115</id><published>2010-04-13T03:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-13T03:59:50.140-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DAISY BASKET</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S8RL71ma2dI/AAAAAAAAAKo/YUbh9cJS2M0/s1600/Yellow+Daisy+drawing-colored.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S8RL71ma2dI/AAAAAAAAAKo/YUbh9cJS2M0/s400/Yellow+Daisy+drawing-colored.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459572139652471250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This one of my Photo suite  creations. They only exist in  my computer. A  few years ago I became intrigued and created about 200 of  these. Then I became sidetracked and lost my inspiration and I haven't done any since, until now. &lt;br /&gt;The flower part is  an abstraction of a photo sent to me from my friend. She's doing photography now. And one of her subjects  are flowers. This is a Gerber Daisy.  Cartooned, colored and the background put in. Sort of a cross between Georgia &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;O'Keeffe&lt;/span&gt; and Mondrian.&lt;br /&gt;***************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-6471889825131583115?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/6471889825131583115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=6471889825131583115' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/6471889825131583115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/6471889825131583115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/04/daisy-basket.html' title='DAISY BASKET'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S8RL71ma2dI/AAAAAAAAAKo/YUbh9cJS2M0/s72-c/Yellow+Daisy+drawing-colored.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-2914342381575793776</id><published>2010-04-10T00:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-12T01:00:09.743-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BUTTERFLY MYSTIC</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S8AqP6rQF-I/AAAAAAAAAKg/h0Hh7wOO1vw/s1600/Butterflies%3D2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 321px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S8AqP6rQF-I/AAAAAAAAAKg/h0Hh7wOO1vw/s400/Butterflies%3D2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458409201310111714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Since the butterfly is one of my totems, I decided to look up something about the symbolism connected with it. Well, I must say. That was an adventure!  It all depends on what country and culture you come from. And the meanings are all quite personal, which I had already surmised.&lt;br /&gt;As it stands, as with any  personal beliefs, choose whatever you feel fits.&lt;br /&gt;Butterflies and birds are free,&lt;br /&gt;to fly at will, and to be,&lt;br /&gt;not bound to earth,&lt;br /&gt;like you and me.&lt;br /&gt;A symbol of:&lt;br /&gt;freedom,&lt;br /&gt;lightness of being.&lt;br /&gt;Pure&lt;br /&gt;carefree  joy.&lt;br /&gt;makes a little gold bell,&lt;br /&gt;in my heart to ring.&lt;br /&gt;A moment in time to be remembered.  I have only felt it one time in my life.  A moment, without pain,  detached briefly from all my pain in my heart and soul. The feeling was so alien, I wondered what was going on.  What is this?   Then I gave thought to what we did that week.&lt;br /&gt;And, my goodness, this is what true happiness is? What it feels like?&lt;br /&gt;I felt it that one time. I remember the feeling even now, even though I have not felt that special kind of feeling again.&lt;br /&gt;Life came back on me.  No true joy again. Sometimes I cannot even take a breath,  it crushes so.&lt;br /&gt;So, that's why I make pictures of young girls dancing with butterflies, the memory of that, one moment, one day.&lt;br /&gt;*********************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-2914342381575793776?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/2914342381575793776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=2914342381575793776' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2914342381575793776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/2914342381575793776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/04/butterfly-mystic.html' title='BUTTERFLY MYSTIC'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S8AqP6rQF-I/AAAAAAAAAKg/h0Hh7wOO1vw/s72-c/Butterflies%3D2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-3600683305266635227</id><published>2010-04-07T23:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-07T23:53:29.439-07:00</updated><title type='text'>IRIS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S715CQnD2wI/AAAAAAAAAKY/tKuDLow06Z8/s1600/Iris-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S715CQnD2wI/AAAAAAAAAKY/tKuDLow06Z8/s400/Iris-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457651403168406274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Iris, goddess of the rainbow. Iris do come in a myriad  of colors. And many styles. Love them. This the first bloom this  year. There are two stems this year. &lt;br /&gt;I do have a couple more, over against the north wall. But, maybe will bloom later. They did last year. Such a pretty color too. A sort of  pale lavender-blue and ruffled.&lt;br /&gt;***************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-3600683305266635227?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/3600683305266635227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=3600683305266635227' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3600683305266635227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3600683305266635227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/04/iris.html' title='IRIS'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S715CQnD2wI/AAAAAAAAAKY/tKuDLow06Z8/s72-c/Iris-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-5905044208018742383</id><published>2010-04-06T00:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-06T00:27:45.426-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FLOWER GIRL</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S7rhy7jPhwI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/jT0dyJrMKUg/s1600/Flower+Girl-2a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S7rhy7jPhwI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/jT0dyJrMKUg/s400/Flower+Girl-2a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456922163607996162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't been writing or sewing lately. Or even reading, although I did order about six books on the Renaissance from the library. I have five, waiting for the sixth.&lt;br /&gt;What I have been doing, is some drawing. Just nice pieces about the the joy of youth.&lt;br /&gt;I have already put up the butterfly one. The one this time. is my take on Flora from the Primavera painting by Botticelli. Always  liked that picture. Always wanted to do my own version. Finally did.&lt;br /&gt;My take is of Spring as the maiden,  not the burgeoning Matron.   The freshness of new flowers, the green meadows.  She coming home with a lap full of wildflowers to make sachets for the  clothespress. or whatever.&lt;br /&gt;I am working on a colored one.    I will put it when it's finished.&lt;br /&gt;She was really fun to draw.&lt;br /&gt;*********************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-5905044208018742383?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/5905044208018742383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=5905044208018742383' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/5905044208018742383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/5905044208018742383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/04/flower-girl.html' title='FLOWER GIRL'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S7rhy7jPhwI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/jT0dyJrMKUg/s72-c/Flower+Girl-2a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-1810509210365849411</id><published>2010-04-03T00:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-03T01:05:26.216-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DANCING WITH BUTTERFLIES</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S7b1Zqe2IjI/AAAAAAAAAKA/NbhTe0-hSJA/s1600/Dancing.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 315px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S7b1Zqe2IjI/AAAAAAAAAKA/NbhTe0-hSJA/s400/Dancing.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455817819855135282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Such a lovely day  to be dancing across a meadow, blythe and carefree . A brief   interlude.&lt;br /&gt;always and ever,  chasing a bit of happiness, where ever one can find it in  this  mixed up world.&lt;br /&gt;********************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-1810509210365849411?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/1810509210365849411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=1810509210365849411' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/1810509210365849411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/1810509210365849411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/04/spring-came.html' title='DANCING WITH BUTTERFLIES'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S7b1Zqe2IjI/AAAAAAAAAKA/NbhTe0-hSJA/s72-c/Dancing.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-5739291897274811456</id><published>2010-03-31T21:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-31T21:34:31.503-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HEART'S EASE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S7QhH9zuiYI/AAAAAAAAAJw/Q8tpNeBGugU/s1600/Image010-heart%27s+ease.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 232px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S7QhH9zuiYI/AAAAAAAAAJw/Q8tpNeBGugU/s320/Image010-heart%27s+ease.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455021469386836354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A touch of spring, in between all the rain, and in some places, snow.   We have had intermittent sun and rain. Last night, even snow on the foothills, and snow  blizzard in the Sierra mountains.  Typical. But the disappointing part is: rain on Easter.  Hate that.&lt;br /&gt;******************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-5739291897274811456?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/5739291897274811456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=5739291897274811456' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/5739291897274811456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/5739291897274811456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/03/hearts-ease.html' title='HEART&apos;S EASE'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S7QhH9zuiYI/AAAAAAAAAJw/Q8tpNeBGugU/s72-c/Image010-heart%27s+ease.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-1481259620394886428</id><published>2010-03-24T01:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-24T01:52:52.071-07:00</updated><title type='text'>PLAYFUL</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S6nQqbiFTUI/AAAAAAAAAJg/6pphnc-zBT0/s1600/new+drawing-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 312px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S6nQqbiFTUI/AAAAAAAAAJg/6pphnc-zBT0/s320/new+drawing-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452118251272490306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;When I  can't sew or read, I draw.   When I can't make a new doll, I draw one.  It is something of a challenge, with my corky right eye.   I not only have AMD in my eye, that's the one with an astigmatism in it. &lt;br /&gt;The subject of my drawing is a young girl figure, dancing with butterflies. I felt appropriate for this season.&lt;br /&gt;She would be great idea for a doll.&lt;br /&gt;************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-1481259620394886428?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/1481259620394886428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=1481259620394886428' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/1481259620394886428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/1481259620394886428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/03/playful.html' title='PLAYFUL'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S6nQqbiFTUI/AAAAAAAAAJg/6pphnc-zBT0/s72-c/new+drawing-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-5491005078913634487</id><published>2010-03-22T22:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-22T22:36:14.896-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NEW   ADDITION</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S6hN5nNwsXI/AAAAAAAAAJY/oSsWBhwgs_8/s1600-h/Karina+and+horses-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S6hN5nNwsXI/AAAAAAAAAJY/oSsWBhwgs_8/s320/Karina+and+horses-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451693001106567538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I have been playing with my collection.   As I said before, I really do not usually collect modern dolls. But, when I found the 'Only Hearts Club' sets on Amazon, that so took me back to when I was 12, my two cousins and I  had a 'season of  horses'.   The toys  evoked such a strong feeling of nostalgia, that I decided, why not? I looked them over carefully, trying to decide which set to purchase. I found, one of the Karina dolls, would come to live with me,  because even though, she has blond hair, (I always wanted to be blond)  the doll has green eyes.  (I have green hazel eyes. By the way, there are four colors of 'hazel' eyes.) &lt;br /&gt;Karina has a horse  too. Each doll does too.   This Karina came in a 'pink' western outfit. Perfectly appropriate.  When I was  13, I HAD to have a western outfit for the fair and rodeo that year. &lt;br /&gt;I ordered the toys, and they came quite quickly. I am pleased, because, now I have a doll to go with my soft toy horse collection.  The horse with the tack, is Karina's. The others are collected. There are two more that aren't in the picture.&lt;br /&gt;The doll is 9 inches tall.&lt;br /&gt;After a bit, I took a long look at the doll. She somewhat resembles my cousin 'Avis'!! &lt;br /&gt;********************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-5491005078913634487?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/5491005078913634487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=5491005078913634487' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/5491005078913634487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/5491005078913634487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/03/new-addition.html' title='NEW   ADDITION'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S6hN5nNwsXI/AAAAAAAAAJY/oSsWBhwgs_8/s72-c/Karina+and+horses-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-3697564855725643814</id><published>2010-03-17T20:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T20:49:38.728-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CHEER THE GREEN!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S6RFHrLB7YI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/0hrOzDN3aow/s1600-h/st+patricks.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 312px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S6RFHrLB7YI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/0hrOzDN3aow/s400/st+patricks.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450557447175531906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Yeah, well, my mother's  father was Irish. Always been proud of that.  Along with my smidge of Native American. One of my ancestors was here to greet (sic) the other ancestor.  All in all, they both had something in common.   But, you know what? The Native tribes are ahead of the Irish. They have had tribal lands returned to them, while the Irish are still working for the return of  Independence.&lt;br /&gt;No, I'm not an activist.  However, I do recognize  a wrong doing.&lt;br /&gt;After all, it was the Irish and Scot's who created Our America.  They definitely  were well acquainted with oppression and deprivation.&lt;br /&gt;Pretty good  job they did too. Everyone considered the Irish to just be drunkards and brawlers.&lt;br /&gt;NOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;And Saint Patrick's Day is a good time to thank them and be glad  we were so fortunate, every day.&lt;br /&gt;Next best day, --AFTER-- The 4th. of July- our Independence Day.&lt;br /&gt;I was born with red, white and blue  flag tattooed on my heart.&lt;br /&gt;**************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-3697564855725643814?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/3697564855725643814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=3697564855725643814' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3697564855725643814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/3697564855725643814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/03/cheer-green.html' title='CHEER THE GREEN!'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S6RFHrLB7YI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/0hrOzDN3aow/s72-c/st+patricks.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-921604700957901571</id><published>2010-03-15T23:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-16T16:35:35.979-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NO FUN</title><content type='html'>Have you ever heard of: "neural-dermatitis"?  Well, my life was and is in such a miserable place, that I broke out with it last summer. The spots heal v-e-r-y s-l-o--w-l-y.  On my  legs and body, it wasn't so bad. Just unsightly. But, when it broke out on my head-------misery and pain. Unrelenting.  Yeah, went to dermatologist. All she did was identify and diagnose it. That's it. No suggestion for treatment or anything. I asked for something to put on it. She gave me on ointment that made the scalp and spots sting, itch and burn even more!!!!&lt;br /&gt;So, as usual, I have to deal with it myself. By, trying this and that,  I can sometimes get relief. And I sleep a lot. Seems when I lie down, changes the blood flow and eases the discomfort.  For awhile.  The dermatologist sent me to a psychiatrist to get some tranquilizers!?   So I did. They make me sleep.  Ok, fine.&lt;br /&gt;I still have my IBS and  my AMD on top of this.  Besides there is some dental work I need done. Therefore, I just have not been up to blogging.  Haven't been able  to think about doing any thing at all creative.&lt;br /&gt;******************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-921604700957901571?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/921604700957901571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=921604700957901571' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/921604700957901571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/921604700957901571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/03/no-fun.html' title='NO FUN'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-5573810174582484</id><published>2010-03-08T00:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-08T00:11:14.523-08:00</updated><title type='text'>VALENTINE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S5SvB1xVPsI/AAAAAAAAAJI/DQEn3DOsyw8/s1600-h/valentine.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 269px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S5SvB1xVPsI/AAAAAAAAAJI/DQEn3DOsyw8/s400/valentine.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446170295546494658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I know,  this is March, but, well I meant to put it up before.&lt;br /&gt;This year, we decided to not buy valentines. There just not any pretty ones and they are too expensive. As you know in a post last month, I put out valentines that I had saved. Made lovely decorations.&lt;br /&gt;However, I decided to make valentines for us. This is one I drew. I also made a collage in my regular journal. I felt the need to have one for each of us.&lt;br /&gt;Now, I have a new yearly project to look forward to.&lt;br /&gt;**************************************&lt;br /&gt;The artwork is copyright by me-CGZ-February-11-2010.&lt;br /&gt;******************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-5573810174582484?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/5573810174582484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=5573810174582484' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/5573810174582484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/5573810174582484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/03/valentine.html' title='VALENTINE'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S5SvB1xVPsI/AAAAAAAAAJI/DQEn3DOsyw8/s72-c/valentine.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-7657559071013782610</id><published>2010-03-03T23:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-03T23:48:33.351-08:00</updated><title type='text'>NUANCE</title><content type='html'>One thing I have finally realized, since blogging after four years. No one. Not one person out there has any kind of imagination. Must be too much TV.   Not enough reading.  Not being interested in any thing that does not  live under their nose.  &lt;br /&gt;What a drab life.&lt;br /&gt;****************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-7657559071013782610?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/7657559071013782610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=7657559071013782610' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/7657559071013782610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/7657559071013782610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/03/nuance.html' title='NUANCE'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-5597167988039344484</id><published>2010-03-02T20:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-02T20:50:58.591-08:00</updated><title type='text'>UNEXPECTED   ENCOUNTER</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S43h49bmLVI/AAAAAAAAAJA/OEtyZ4WJfbc/s1600-h/Fairy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S43h49bmLVI/AAAAAAAAAJA/OEtyZ4WJfbc/s400/Fairy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444255893240032594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We had several days of fog last month.  really thick, down to the ground, swirling around the trees, becoming tangled in the bushes. Dew, dripping from the new leaves.   I have always found the fog be somewhat mysterious. Where did the fog come from? It would appear in places far from water.   Twin itself around mountains, or making the lowlands damp.&lt;br /&gt;Finally, last month, I was up early in the morning, heavy fog had been predicted. the airports were already steeling themselves to deal with frustrated  travelers.&lt;br /&gt;I decided to go out and look around at the fog, twining, wafting, drifting about the trees and landscape.&lt;br /&gt;Wait? what's that? I stopped, stood still and quiet. There dancing about,  I spied something. A chill went through me. No, it wasn't fear, it was the thrill of seeing something otherworldly. Oh, my, heart, it was a figure.   One of several. A small troop.&lt;br /&gt;I could not believe my eyes. Surely, I was dreaming.  I closed my eyes. opened them again. It was true, I was treated to a vision of fog fairies.    They were real. They were moving my way. I gasped, softly. But the lead one, a female figure, looked up, I had caught her eye.  She  looked right at me.  Surprise, flickered across her countenance.  Then she waived her hand, twirled, and the entire company vanished. But, not the fog.&lt;br /&gt;The next thing I knew, I was in the house. And no memory of how I got there. And---my feet were not at all wet or even damp.&lt;br /&gt;But, I did have the memory of my dream or vision.  I quickly went to my desk, sat down, and this is the picture of the lead figure that I saw.  I shall never forget it.&lt;br /&gt;****************************************&lt;br /&gt;Copyright: 3-2-2010&lt;br /&gt;*********************&lt;br /&gt;By: CGZ&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-5597167988039344484?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/5597167988039344484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=5597167988039344484' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/5597167988039344484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/5597167988039344484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/03/surprise-encounter.html' title='UNEXPECTED   ENCOUNTER'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S43h49bmLVI/AAAAAAAAAJA/OEtyZ4WJfbc/s72-c/Fairy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-5118307414361758245</id><published>2010-03-01T00:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-02T20:45:22.333-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SURVIVING</title><content type='html'>Some days my situation almost defeats me. But, my parents were good role models and taught me how to endure and survive in the midst of adversity. Thank goodness. Or I don't think I would have stayed around this long.&lt;br /&gt;I always try to find new things to keep my interest.   The  tragic things that go on around the world are something I cannot solve.   One does what one can, and leave the rest  to those who have the resources.  You try to have the wisdom to tell the difference. Otherwise= you go nuts.&lt;br /&gt;although on days like this,  I just want to screaming out the door and down the street.   At home at the mill, I could go out to the woods, or my grandfather's fields. No one would hear or care.  If they heard anything, they would think it to be a coyote.   Or a cougar.  A cougar's scream sounds very like a woman's. &lt;br /&gt;Since we live in a large town, a hick town that has delusions and aspirations of being called a 'city'.   Even though the population is about 500,000 0r more. The place has a bad case of 'spread'.   When I first came here, it was lovely, all orchards and truck gardens and flower greenhouses.   Now it's all glass and concrete.&lt;br /&gt;The main attraction for me and why I stay,  it's only an hour to 'the' city.   I love the city too. Tried to live there for a year or two. Found out, I couldn't live without 'trees'.    So, came here to go to university. &lt;br /&gt;Where we live now are lots of trees.  a huge pine just on the other side of our patio wall.   I call him, 'mr. hulk'.  &lt;br /&gt;*********************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-5118307414361758245?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/5118307414361758245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=5118307414361758245' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/5118307414361758245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/5118307414361758245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/03/serviving.html' title='SURVIVING'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-5735062955269861641</id><published>2010-02-22T01:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T01:46:52.416-08:00</updated><title type='text'>ANTIQUE TOY PONY</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S4JRKvZ-WuI/AAAAAAAAAIw/zxF3tax-d4M/s1600-h/Little+Horse.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 335px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S4JRKvZ-WuI/AAAAAAAAAIw/zxF3tax-d4M/s400/Little+Horse.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441000544782932706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Here's a photo of my little antique toy.  The one in the drawing. He's six inches tall.  Cuddles nicely in ones hand. I brought him out to photograph, and decided to leave him out for awhile. He has been in a cabinet for the past nine years. He deserves a bit of fresh air.&lt;br /&gt;********************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-5735062955269861641?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/5735062955269861641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=5735062955269861641' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/5735062955269861641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/5735062955269861641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/02/antique-toy-pony.html' title='ANTIQUE TOY PONY'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S4JRKvZ-WuI/AAAAAAAAAIw/zxF3tax-d4M/s72-c/Little+Horse.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-7242835961527673123</id><published>2010-02-19T00:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T01:55:54.321-08:00</updated><title type='text'>TOY HORSE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S4JUWAimkJI/AAAAAAAAAI4/SR4VhvG1mxs/s1600-h/Image039-pony.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 283px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S4JUWAimkJI/AAAAAAAAAI4/SR4VhvG1mxs/s400/Image039-pony.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441004036895969426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This an antique toy horse in my collection.  He is such a dear little horse. Very gently played with. I think it says it was loved though. That is the sort of thing I pick up on when I used to antique. We  ate spagetti  that week. We hate spagetti.&lt;br /&gt;I drew this portrait, just to see if I could. I am artistic and love to draw. Sometimes, though, I can't always draw what I see. He turned out well though.&lt;br /&gt;What I like about it, is that it shows a maturity and advacment in my ability.   I was very pleased over that.  He is a small horse, only about six  inches tall.&lt;br /&gt;******************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-7242835961527673123?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/7242835961527673123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=7242835961527673123' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/7242835961527673123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/7242835961527673123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/02/toy-horse.html' title='TOY HORSE'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S4JUWAimkJI/AAAAAAAAAI4/SR4VhvG1mxs/s72-c/Image039-pony.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-8107888827483134392</id><published>2010-02-15T23:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-17T22:55:01.191-08:00</updated><title type='text'>ALL KINDS OF STUFF</title><content type='html'>Hey, America has her cup back! And it's about time.  It's here in California, so the sailors  back east, are probably miffed. But, hey guys, the best est  boat(ship) wins. You bet!  What a craft!  Bird on the water.&lt;br /&gt;  I finally have something that interests me enough to write about. Not just the cup. It has been fun looking at the photos from the various Carnivals around the world.  Venice had one this year. all the best costumes were worn by males.  Quite likely, they are very flamboyant types.  The few women photographed were rather conventional.&lt;br /&gt;I haven't checked Brazil yet. What costume they do have about them is usually quite scant. --But- quite original.&lt;br /&gt;I have a couple of picts of the Saints' parade, and  now two of  Brees as Bacchus. His wife is there too.&lt;br /&gt;Watched the NASCAR races both days. Talk about a bummer.  Danica got  crashed out about half way in. not her fault. In fact she tried to avoid getting hit.  What happened, she lost control of the car and it ran up the track into the inside wall.&lt;br /&gt;Next week.&lt;br /&gt;Not as bad as Chrissy Wallace. Paul Menard tagged her and sent her into the wall. First lap.  And to make things worse, Paul Finished the race.  No justice.&lt;br /&gt;I used to try to follow Danica, but ended all the races were on Speed channel, except one two.  So&lt;br /&gt;I could find her on yahoo news.&lt;br /&gt;What a day at Daytona today.   Track got a pothole. Two red flag stops to fix hole.    After all the&lt;br /&gt;wrecks and stops, they put on a ten card, double shuffle, so you didn't know until the finish line, who has actually won. McMurray- first and Dale Jr. came in second, a very excellent finish for him. I keep rootimg for him no matter what.&lt;br /&gt;It may rain in California.&lt;br /&gt;****************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-8107888827483134392?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/8107888827483134392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=8107888827483134392' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8107888827483134392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8107888827483134392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/02/all-kinds-of-stuff.html' title='ALL KINDS OF STUFF'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-8097980762984274156</id><published>2010-02-14T00:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-17T22:56:39.660-08:00</updated><title type='text'>VALENTINES'</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S3kMnixK0NI/AAAAAAAAAIg/zTouPjqVH0I/s1600-h/mary.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S3kMnixK0NI/AAAAAAAAAIg/zTouPjqVH0I/s400/mary.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438391898514051282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Hb.  used to able to buy very beautiful cards for use for holidays. But, this year, we decided not buy any. The ones available are too blah and too expensive for nothing.  I had saved all of the lovely antique style fold out cards.&lt;br /&gt;So, I just put them out to decorate for the day. I have ten of them.  At least, that's all I found for now.   With my dolls dressed in pink, they make a sweet  array.&lt;br /&gt;However, there is only one card in this picture.&lt;br /&gt;The tallest doll is my Mary Moyer.  The new edition in resin, not the original in composition.&lt;br /&gt;*******************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-8097980762984274156?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/8097980762984274156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=8097980762984274156' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8097980762984274156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/8097980762984274156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/02/valentines.html' title='VALENTINES&apos;'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S3kMnixK0NI/AAAAAAAAAIg/zTouPjqVH0I/s72-c/mary.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-775796378435676500</id><published>2010-02-01T23:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T23:56:58.412-08:00</updated><title type='text'>NEW TOY-SORT OF</title><content type='html'>Well, we finally had to do something about our speed. Internet wise, that is.  Hb. had bought us a new laptop,  to use, because both our old tower computers were so  s-l-o-w, we were just getting too disgusted. Playing on the things were not fun anymore.  My old thing, refused to talk to the printer and the scanner.  Hb. got the newest laptop to finally behave in a  more civil manner and accept the acquaintance to the accessories.   However, each computer has their own  quirks, so I have had to push myself  to deal with  it. I am going slow, so that I  learn it all correctly and in proper sequence.  &lt;br /&gt;The new  tech was still quite slow with our old phone line connections,   So, alright,  Hb. went ahead and now we have  wireless fast connection.  I can actually  surf,  and see all those stupid special do-dads all websites have to have now.&lt;br /&gt;When I am researching something, I just want plain, simple information.  I don't need plug-ins or videos. I completely disconnected the sound.  I have a mute computer. &lt;br /&gt;So, that's what I have been doing. Just getting acquainted with a new toy. It is still temperamental, But, then  all high strung things are.&lt;br /&gt;********************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-775796378435676500?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/775796378435676500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=775796378435676500' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/775796378435676500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/775796378435676500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/02/new-toy-sort-of.html' title='NEW TOY-SORT OF'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-7584255114581617182</id><published>2010-01-25T23:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T23:45:03.941-08:00</updated><title type='text'>TONI</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S16VAe8_adI/AAAAAAAAAIY/5cLJ9OdkhoI/s1600-h/Toni+doll.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 205px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S16VAe8_adI/AAAAAAAAAIY/5cLJ9OdkhoI/s400/Toni+doll.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430942036196813266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is the new E&amp;amp;B  re-issue of the popular 1950's  fashion doll.  The original was 14 inches. but the new doll is 13 inches, to insure that the two dolls can not be  mixed up. And that the new doll could not be sold fraudulently as an original.  Very forward thinking.&lt;br /&gt;By the time the  original doll was released, Mom said I was too old for dolls. So, I couldn't get one. I eventually was able to change her mind about being too old for dolls.&lt;br /&gt;Over the years of my collecting, and always looking the right doll to add to my collection. I ran across quite a few real Toni's. But,  in this case, I decided I didn't want 'used' doll. Which is funny, because all  my other dolls are technically 'second hand'.&lt;br /&gt;So, OK. Time passes.&lt;br /&gt;I had told myself that I didn't need any new dolls.   But, I have picked up a small few anyway. But,  I had been seeing some interest in the 50's fashion dolls,  featured in the Tonner magazine. He was  presenting  a revival and appreciation of past fashion dolls. Which is really terrific.&lt;br /&gt;Since I had purchased three of the new MOXIE   dolls for myself at Christmas, as I was  gleaning the web, looking for doll sources, other than eBay, I ran across a doll shop here in my part of the state. She had the new Toni.  So, hum, um.  Maybe. Let me think about it. Oh, well, yeah. She was everything a little girl could  dream of  in a doll.   Just the type I would have ooohed over. I had my Hb. send for her, for me. She was to be a Valentine's gift.    Right, didn't happen. Had to have her now.   She still counts as a Valentine gift anyway. He doesn't need to get a new gift. He's covered.&lt;br /&gt;She is going to be hard to dress, because, although that set of undies  looks nifty.  Clothes look lumpy  over it.  And she will, have to have a few dresses, or else, she is not a true fashion doll.&lt;br /&gt;*******************************&lt;br /&gt;My childhood doll Maribelle, may be just a tad jealous.  I shall have to assure her, that she is still first in my regard.&lt;br /&gt;*************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-7584255114581617182?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/7584255114581617182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=7584255114581617182' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/7584255114581617182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/7584255114581617182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/01/toni.html' title='TONI'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S16VAe8_adI/AAAAAAAAAIY/5cLJ9OdkhoI/s72-c/Toni+doll.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-358009305975327583</id><published>2010-01-23T13:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-23T17:21:57.193-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SILVER IN THE MOONLIGHT</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S1ufxUNRtYI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/yla9l1_CSns/s1600-h/Palms+and+snow.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 263px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S1ufxUNRtYI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/yla9l1_CSns/s400/Palms+and+snow.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430109445312066946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Silver falling from the skies.&lt;br /&gt;Softly lands with a sigh.&lt;br /&gt;Gently covers all in white,&lt;br /&gt;and it makes a lovely sight.&lt;br /&gt;Slowly the real world fades away,&lt;br /&gt;covered  all in Hulda's way.&lt;br /&gt;Stitched in silver, lies her quilt.&lt;br /&gt;Muffling sound, producing a quietude,&lt;br /&gt;a serene, mysterious solitude,&lt;br /&gt;here in this world, she has built.&lt;br /&gt;*************************&lt;br /&gt;We have snow, here, on the east foothills.&lt;br /&gt;And, yeah, I know, this is a daylight photo.&lt;br /&gt;*******&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-358009305975327583?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/358009305975327583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=358009305975327583' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/358009305975327583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/358009305975327583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/01/silver-in-moonlight.html' title='SILVER IN THE MOONLIGHT'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S1ufxUNRtYI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/yla9l1_CSns/s72-c/Palms+and+snow.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-604843206984269870</id><published>2010-01-20T22:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-20T22:59:57.818-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WELL--ANYWAY</title><content type='html'>I went to see my eye doctor yesterday. Got the  final eyeshot in a series. Next month he will evaluate me to see,  how well the injections worked for me. He was giving me Avastin.  I feel they were worth my nerves. Because, I was so nevous, I broke out in Nuero-dermatitus spots. Ugly red things, that take forever to heal.  The spots on my scalp are the worst. They itch and burn, until I can get something on them to stop it.  Drives me crazy. Scalpasin helps.&lt;br /&gt;I hope to get new glasses before my evaluation.  So, I can see the chart better.&lt;br /&gt;We are having some  heavy storms. Washing away cliffs, flooding streets, blowing down trees.  Thunder and lightening. WOW!! We need the rain, but boy, what a delivery.&lt;br /&gt;************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-604843206984269870?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/604843206984269870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=604843206984269870' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/604843206984269870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/604843206984269870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/01/well-anyway.html' title='WELL--ANYWAY'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-9121056580698164286</id><published>2010-01-08T00:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-08T00:51:10.431-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SMALL THINGS</title><content type='html'>We seem to have a strange thing with small appliances.   We have to replace them every two years, at least.   Microwaves, toasters, answering machines.   Although, I think we had to replace the toaster twice, last year.&lt;br /&gt;I think the toaster we have now is a very cranky grandfather. When the toaster pops,  it doesn't  go, ' snap or sprong, most toasters say,''pop' here is your toast, or, 'toast is ready'. But, this cranky one we have residing on the counter, doesn't serve the toast.  It seems to irritatingly reject it.  The sound the  toaster says is," spuuroungge". and throws the toast out onto the counter.  "Here's your toast, now let me alone".   I tell him shouldn't be lonely, there is the coffeemaker and the microwave to keep him company.   But, he is just cranky. Can metal toasters catch cold or something? Maybe he caught  colic  coming over on the boat.  We have to put up with him, because he was all Target had available.&lt;br /&gt;The coffeemaker is very mellow. Always has been. He is very easy going and his coffee is always good.  Microwave, we've had for several months and we are still getting acquainted.    But, he is trying. I don't know, but, they all seem to have male personas, so that's why I say 'he'. No, They are not named. I only named my cars and they were all 'she'.&lt;br /&gt;*******************************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-9121056580698164286?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/9121056580698164286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=9121056580698164286' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/9121056580698164286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/9121056580698164286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/01/small-things.html' title='SMALL THINGS'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5691726077122481168.post-7096247419644053946</id><published>2010-01-05T00:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T00:56:45.774-08:00</updated><title type='text'>REWARD</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S0L9li9ePnI/AAAAAAAAAII/BIOJKq_1eiI/s1600-h/Christmas+Avery.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 334px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S0L9li9ePnI/AAAAAAAAAII/BIOJKq_1eiI/s400/Christmas+Avery.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423175722789125746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After all I had been through this past year, come Christmas I decided I deserved  something nice and something sweet. So, for Christmas I asked Hb. to buy me two model horses by Breyer. They are special edition NOKOTA horses.  Look up those horses and see why they are special.&lt;br /&gt;Then the other gift I gave myself is a couple of the new MOXIE dolls. They are very cartoony.  I bought the Avery Christmas special and also, Avery-Bo-Peep Masquerade.  They are fun. Not what I usually get for my collection. But, they are amusing and cheerful. I need lots of cheerful right now.&lt;br /&gt;I usually don't buy modern dolls to collect, except for Barbie. Mattel has so changed Barbie, that I do not care for her anymore.&lt;br /&gt;I just needed a new toy.  As if-.&lt;br /&gt;The deer is an antique, I have had it for many years and is a favorite. The dog figure Hb. bought in 2008, to keep me company, after a bad bout of IBS.&lt;br /&gt;********************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5691726077122481168-7096247419644053946?l=artpoetry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/feeds/7096247419644053946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5691726077122481168&amp;postID=7096247419644053946' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/7096247419644053946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5691726077122481168/posts/default/7096247419644053946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/01/reward.html' title='REWARD'/><author><name>silverlight</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01849509928715939847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFusgAogWFE/S0L9li9ePnI/AAAAAAAAAII/BIOJKq_1eiI/s72-c/Christmas+Avery.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
